


An Accidental Incubus

by jupiter_james



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Anal Sex, Angel Castiel, Angst, Creature Dean, Cursed Dean, Frottage, Fuck Or Die, Incubus Dean, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Soul Bond, Soul Sex, Wing Kink, everything is fine in a Dean sort of way, not timeline compliant, picking and choosing plot points from all over the timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-13
Updated: 2016-02-19
Packaged: 2018-05-13 16:49:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 40,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5709787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jupiter_james/pseuds/jupiter_james
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a hunt gone wrong, Dean finds himself cursed to be an incubus. While Sam and Charlie rush to find a cure before the change is permanent, Castiel decides to become Dean's "offering" when the hunter begins to deteriorate under the effects of the change.</p><p><b>Fic has been updated!</b> Gone are the weird time jumps and continuity errors that plagued my first SPN longfic! I overhauled several chapters so that everything flows nice and evenly now. I hope you enjoy it!</p><p>I'm on Tumblr: <a href="http://jupiterjames.tumblr.com">JupiterJames</a>!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 01

**Author's Note:**

> In all honesty, this fic was supposed to be a smutty oneshot, and even sort of amusing. Then I started thinking about different scenarios and a plot grew around the idea. So, this will be a multi-chapter fic. I will add tags and characters as necessary, but for the moment I only have a few more chapters planned out.  
>  **All comments, questions, concerns are welcome and encouraged!**  
>     
> I haven't been active in the Supernatural fandom much before this, so I'd be thrilled to hear your opinions while I'm still getting my feet wet!
> 
> Find me on Tumblr! Main Blog (all my fics and creativity go here): [JupiterJames](http://jupiterjames.tumblr.com)!

The whole situation was funny to Dean Winchester for about ten minutes. Significantly longer to his brother Sam, but then again, Sam wasn’t the one who was cursed in the cold light of day. “Oh, man,” Sam said from the table, flipping through another moldy tome. He’d said that about eight times in the span of a half an hour for days now. “This is a serious problem, Dean.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Dean muttered, stuffing his face with another sandwich. Was it his second or his third? Who cared. It definitely was _not_ curing his hunger, but he could keep trying.

“What are you gonna do?”

Dean leveled his brother with a sour look. “I thought that’s what _you_ were researching right now. If I knew, I wouldn’t be cursed anymore.”

“That’s the thing,” Sam answered thoughtfully, putting the book aside and rubbing his bloodshot eyes. “Everything I’ve been reading the whole night seems to suggest that you’re not cursed at all.”

Dean snorted through a mouthful of turkey, ham, lettuce, tomato, and Sam’s cardboard-y whole wheat bread. “Did you miss the whole part where I became a freaking _incubus_? Because I haven’t.”

“Yeah, I know,” Sam answered wearily against Dean’s biting sarcasm, “but I don’t think that this is something we can undo. Not exactly. It’s less of a curse. More of a change... type thing.”

Dean shoved the plate aside and then the chair, lurching over to Sam’s side of the table and looming over his shoulder. “No. No way, Sammy. I _really_ don’t think you’re getting it. You see this?” He folded up his sleeve and leveled the angry mark on his forearm right under Sam’s nose. “This is the bite from a succubus.” He traced the teeth marks with his finger. “And the saliva from that monster is all up in my blood. Poisoning it. Making me a _little bit_ less than human. So, what we need to do is find something in one of those Men of Letters books and cure the curse. Same as we always do.”

Sam smacked Dean’s hand out of the way and turned the tome so that his brother could read it more easily. “I get that. But I’m worried you’re not just ‘less than human’ now. I’m afraid you’re an _actual_ incubus. And if that’s the case, there’s no way to cure it. No one’s ever recorded a way, at any rate. Not that I’ve found.”

Dean growled moodily in the back of his throat and collapsed into the chair beside his brother, scooting the book closer. “There has to be a way. Even if we have to make one up for ourselves. We’re cured demons before, right? Hell, we know how to reverse vampires. There’s gotta be a way. I’m not doing this forever.”

“You won’t. You’re probably right, anyway. We’ll find a way to fix this. All the shit we’ve been through? There has to be a way to do this, too. I mean, just because the Men of Letters hadn’t studied it much or thought about it, doesn’t mean it’s impossible.” He adds in an undertone, “I hope.”

“Let’s just find it ASAP, man. I can’t take these weird cravings. They’re driving me insane.”

Sam scrunched his face up distastefully. “Don’t wanna hear about it, Dean.”

“Relax, man, I’m not walking around with a boner all the time. Right now it’s just a vague thing. Kinda feels like I’m craving some food but can’t decide _what_.”

“That explains all the sandwiches.”

“Yeah.” Dean shifted in the chair. It wasn’t the _complete_ truth of the matter. For the first few hours it had been, of course. But now it was starting to feel like he was coming down with something. He was hungry; more hungry than he’d ever been. But it was beginning to morph into a malaise he couldn’t shake. Occasional hot and cold flashes. A nebulous headache just to the side of annoying.

A slight shift in the air signaled Castiel’s return. “I’m back,” the angel said.

“‘Bout time,” Dean answered, stuffing the rest of the sandwich into his mouth. “What’d you find?”

Castiel shook his head as he approached the table. “I found nothing of use.” Sam sighed and Dean groaned again. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, you did your best,” Sam answered, always placating. “We haven’t exhausted all our options.”

“We haven’t found _any_ options,” Dean retorted.

Sam rolls his shoulders. “Okay, we’ve exhausted all the _good_ ideas. But, whatever. It’s not the end of the road. We’ve been in worse places.”

Castiel slid into the chair Dean had vacated on the other side of the table, staring at both of the hunters in turn, blue eyes dark with worry. “Perhaps in the meantime, we should talk about how to manage the transformation.”

“Hell, no!” Dean said sharply. “I don’t wanna be freaking Dracula, man.”

The concerned wrinkle between Castiel’s eyebrows deepened with his confusion. “No, of course not. You are not a vampire, Dean.”

Sam snickered and Dean rolled his eyes.

“That’s not what I mean.”

“I am certain that Dracula is a-”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean cut him off. “I don’t mean the vampire part. I mean the sneaking into women’s bedrooms to impregnate them and all that shit. There’s no way I’m doing any of that. You’ll have to lock me up and chop my dick off first.”

“Let’s avoid that,” Sam suggested. “Please. We’re not telling you to go out and _actually_ be in incubus, Dean. But Castiel is right. We probably have to come up with a plan B. If this curse, or whatever, is anything like what we’ve seen before, you’ll only get worse the longer you deny it.”

Wearily, Dean stood up. “Keep working on it. I need some sleep. Maybe a shower. I’m worn out.” And his senses were starting to sharpen, for lack of a better word. He could smell his own sweat and even the unique scents of Sam and Castiel. It made him more uneasy than anything else, counting his more acute vision and hearing. All things fundamental to helping a monster sneak into dark bedrooms and attack people. _Don’t even go there._

Sam shooed his brother with his hand. “We got this. I’ll call Charlie, too. Maybe she can speed up the online research part with those search programs she wrote. We’ll let you know if and when we find anything.”

Frustrated, still hungry, and probably a bunch of other things he wasn’t ready to contemplate, Dean nodded and made his way back to his room, stripping off his clothes quickly and turning on the water in the shower to cold. He sighed with relief as he stepped under the spray. Everything was too hot, too uncomfortable. Or getting there, anyway. Sam would only worry too much if Dean bothered to tell him the extent of his discomfort, and Cas... well, Cas would redouble his efforts to find answers, all the while giving him that weird kicked puppy look. He didn’t need any of that. It wasn’t their fault he’d been bitten. But what he _really_ needed was out of the question. They’d find a cure. They had to.

His teeth started to chatter by the time he was sufficiently numb enough to get out of the shower. Clothes made his skin itch, so Dean toweled off quickly and flopped on top of the comforter naked. When he slept, his dreams were fitful and broken.

 

 

~ o ~ x ~ xoXox ~ x ~ o ~

 

 

Dean woke with a start, shooting up in bed, heart thundering behind his ribs. He wasn’t sure what had woken him, but though it had been startling, it hadn’t been threatening enough to make him grab for the gun under his pillow. He rubbed his face with both hands, groaning softly, then glanced at the clock. It was after five in the morning. He’d slept for eight hours and he was as exhausted as if he’d only taken a light nap. Fuck. Everything hurt. It even hurt when he ran his fingers through his sweat-dampened hair. He was getting worse. No denying that anymore. If Castiel and Charlie and Sam hadn’t figured out a way to cure him yet, he sure as shit hoped that they had a way to keep the curse from killing him outright while they kept researching.

Until then... another cold shower. The water pounded Dean’s skin like sleet and he clenched his jaw tightly until it numbed him almost to the point of hypothermia. His stiff limbs barely moved when he shut off the water and stepped onto the cold tiles. With shaking hands he tied a towel around his waist, not bothering to actually dry off this time.

“Dean.”

He glanced up from where he’d been watching himself walk in case he tripped over something while his frozen feet warmed up. “Cas,” he said, voice gravelly.

“Your lips are blue.”

Dean chuckled and the sound trembled with his chattering teeth. “Yeah. Cold shower. It’s the only thing that really helps the cravings. My body goes numb for a little while so I don’t feel anything. Sam already told me to lay off the drinking, since lowering the inhibitions and all that shit.”

Castiel reached out and pressed his hand against Dean’s forehead. “Yet you have a fever. We were right about the quickly increasing withdrawal symptoms.”

Dean shrugged off his hand and moved towards his dresser. “Don’t need to tell me that. It’s getting harder to... ignore. One of these days I’m not gonna be able to take care of it by myself. You and Sam... you can’t let me get like that, okay?” He pulled on his boxers and winced at the feeling of his shirt sliding over his overly-sensitive skin, mostly still numbed from the cold water or not. It took every ounce of willpower in him to not rip his clothes off in anger. Worse every day. He gritted his teeth when he pulled on his faded sweats.

“Sam and I spoke with Charlie,” Castiel said at length.

Dean swiveled his head to level the angel with an uneasy look. When Cas was unwilling to come out with it immediately, it was almost always something Dean didn’t want to hear. This time probably wouldn’t be any different. “Gossiping behind my back?” he joked weakly.

“Not really. We failed to come to an agreement. And I decided to... take matters into my own hands. As it were.”

Leaning forward and bracing his hands against the top of the dresser, hating even the sensation of the smooth wood under his palms, Dean took a fortifying breath. “Did you? Huh. The way you say it makes it sound like something Sammy wouldn’t approve of.”

“I’m not sure if he would or not, to be honest. However, I see no other option. You need an offering, Dean. I will be that offering for you.”

Mouth suddenly dry, Dean turned slowly to find serious blue eyes watching him unwaveringly. He tried his best to ignore the twitch of his dick and the way that he suddenly noticed _everything_ about Castiel more acutely than normal. “The hell are you talking about, Cas?”

The angel took a step forward. “I believe that since you have gone so long without... um... sating your urges, it might be dangerous for you to do so with another human. Charlie’s research supported my assessment. Incubi and succubae feed off of their prey’s energy. The longer they go without feeding, the more they take from their next victim. You were bitten three days ago, and have never fed. Therefore, you need someone who is stronger than a human. Someone with more spirit energy. Once you have taken some energy, you will be able to sustain yourself for longer without needing an offering. Charlie also discovered that incubi and succubae often take from non-humans because their spirit energy is more potent, and use humans only to fulfil the desire to breed with them and bond them that way. In order for you to get your strength back and fight this, I believe that you need someone who you can’t kill when you take their essence.”

Dean choked on his own saliva as it flooded his mouth. “ _Essence_? Jesus, Cas. That’s... no way, man.” He curled his fingers against his thighs, hoping to all deities that Castiel did his normal thing of staring him in the eye, rather than below the waist where things were becoming far more interesting. “I thought we all agreed that I couldn’t do anything incubus-y or else we wouldn’t be able to reverse it! Like a vampire who’s already fed. Now you’re telling me to give in? With _you_? Dude, that’s... that’s crazy!” His heart hammered so hard that it was making his voice shake. Making his words slur slightly. How was any of this even happening? It had been surreal from the beginning, but this was too much. Especially all at once.

Castiel’s chin tipped down and he arched an eyebrow. “I can sense it. Dean. You will lose yourself if you deny what you’ve become. Nothing in the lore says that taking my grace will forever change you. Charlie’s research hints at a permanent bond between an incubus and their chosen breeding mate. _That_ would be irreversible. But otherwise we are buying you time, nothing more. We may not know how to reverse it yet, but we are fairly certain it’s not like vampirism. Only born incubi or mated turned ones are permanent. You need what I am offering you. You can’t fight it if you are too far gone.”

He held his hands up in a stopping motion. “But I don’t wanna be an incubus at all! That’s why I’m begging you guys to work faster so I won’t have to go batshit crazy because of this.”

“Sam and I have researched this thoroughly, Dean. We believe that your point of no return, as it were, would only be if you mated a human. That’s the true call of incubi. To impregnate and seduce humans with whom they are compatible. With a different being, it should not be the same. It will heal you enough to keep you fighting, regardless. And I cannot be impregnated.”

Dean laughed, a pained sound. He rubbed his chilled arms vigorously to help calm down the adrenaline rush fogging his higher brain functions. “It can’t be that easy, man. It never fucking _is_. Never. It’s too easy of a loophole. Doesn’t it sound too convenient?”

Castiel shrugged a single shoulder. “Maybe not. There is always a risk. But the risk this time is greater to me, I think. When Sam left to sleep, Charlie and I talked at length of this. All of our research speaks nearly exclusively of incubi and humans. That suggests breeding and bonding with other beings is either uncommon, or impossible.”

Despite himself, Dean shuffled forward. “How do you figure? I mean, if you guys are wrong, then I’m the one stuck as a freaking monster forever. And I can’t even think about the consequences. I mean... sure, I’m cool with one and done, but this is a whole other level. I refuse to knock up unwilling women and steal their ‘spirit essence’ just because of some damn curse.”

“I understand that,” Castiel said with a grimace. “Believe me. Your brother and I are doing the best that we can to help you. Charlie says that she might have some other leads as well. She will leave in the morning to investigate further.”

Dean groaned. “And all three of you agree that you won’t find any other options before I need an intervention?”

Castiel slid his jacket over his shoulders and pulled it off slowly. Dean’s sharp green eyes tracked every movement as the angel folded it meticulously and placed it on the desk chair. “We have agreed on the outcome, but not the means. As I said, Sam, Charlie, and I have determined that you would feel better if you agreed to satisfying some of your desires, at least with a non-human. However, I will be honest with you and tell you that neither of them agreed that it should be with me.”

Swallowing convulsively again, Dean croaked, “why not?” As if he actually wanted to know the answer.

Castiel’s blue eyes locked on and held for several racing heartbeats. “They believe that you and I know each other too well to have sex out of pure necessity.”

He cleared his throat. “What does _that_ have to do with any of this? I’ve got... something like a medical condition, right? It’s not like I have the luxury for anything else, incubus or not.”

“I thought you might say something like that. And I agree with you. I am in a position to help. Will you let me?”

Well, wasn’t that the million dollar question? Dean took another step forward when what he really wanted was to take a step back. “That’s a pretty big question.” But it was starting to seem small. When Dean allowed it even the tiniest bit of consideration, his body responded with a vengeance. In a flash, everything narrowed down to the angel in front of him. The details struck to the forefront. Castiel smelled like clean rain and light energy. And spiced oranges. His heartbeat was slower than a normal human’s, but very steady and in time with his breathing. Dean found himself leaning minutely forward to hear it better. The angel’s blue eyes looked far more clear than he’d noticed before, and his mop of unkempt dark hair, more attractive. His fingers itched to smooth every wrinkle on his white dress shirt, though his gaze snapped up and held hungrily to Castiel’s hands when they moved to his collar.

Hooking one finger under the knot of his tie, Castiel gave a tug and pulled it loose, too. “Is the arrangement unsuitable for you?”

Unconsciously, Dean gave in and pinched the tie between his cold fingers, slipping it off of Castiel’s neck and placing it on top of his trench coat. “It’s not that,” he answered, voice faraway. “Everyone’s worried about what’s gonna happen afterwards.”

Castiel’s unreadable gaze watched Dean’s movements carefully as the hunter began to pluck at the buttons of his dress shirt, exposing tawny skin little by little. He licked his dry lips and Dean mirrored the movement. “Afterwards,” he said, voice curiously tight, “you will feel better and I will be fine with rest. There is nothing for them to worry about.”

When Dean looked up, Castiel counted the flecks of gold his unfocused green eyes, unsure why, though the distraction calmed him from the inexplicable nervousness washing over him in ever-increasing waves. They’d moved closer to one another, and behind the shampoo and soap, Castiel could smell a musky, pleasing undertone that settled into the back of his throat. Ah, so _that_ was the effect of human pheromones. Increased tenfold due to the curse, but still _human_. It smelled wonderful. Spicy and tantalizing. And it was working gently to undo him.

Working all the more when Dean’s quick grin lit his face for a moment, pulling Castiel’s attention to the shorter man’s dimples. “That’s not what I was talking about.”

“Then...” Castiel cleared his throat. “What do you mean?”

The last button popped free, though neither Dean nor Cas moved to take the shirt off. “We’ve been family for a long time, right?”

“Yes,” Castiel answered with feeling. He bent his arm up, a single finger tracing the corner of Dean’s lip and then the dimple. His palms began to sweat when Dean’s eyes slipped shut and a small breath puffed from between his slightly parted lips. Dean’s curse was calling out to him. Resonating in his veins and making him yearn to touch the hunter. Hands moving before his brain had processed what to do.

“So Charlie and Sam are worried that it’ll change things between us.” His voice was a thin murmur.

It felt a bit like that time he’d drank an entire liquor store as Castiel leaned even closer, chasing the scent of the pheromones to the soft spot just under Dean’s ear. He almost flicked his tongue out to taste it, but Dean’s iron grip on his shoulder forced him to stop. He pulled back reluctantly, his body protesting the loss no matter how hard he commanded it.

“Cas,” Dean breathed. His chin tilted up.

Castiel had never been so sure of anything as he was certain that Dean Winchester wanted to kiss him. But the tight grab of the hunter’s fingers and his stiff posture had the angel pulling back further. “What is it, Dean?” He wanted it. _Wanted and wanted and wanted_. He _didn’t_ want to ask about it. Just feel the bone deep need some more. Explore it. Let it be the honest desire that had become a mixture of Dean’s pheromones and the years they had known each other.

“They might be right. It all might change between us. I don’t know if I can do that. Not after everything we’ve been through.”

“Are you worried about your feelings? For me?”

A small tremor ran through Dean’s body, and his muscles relaxed a bit. “Maybe. I dunno. It’s just seems dangerous. I don’t wanna lose you over my own mistake. I’ve done enough of that before.”

Castiel cupped Dean’s face in his hands, taking a moment to enjoy the sensation of sandpapery stubble against his palms. The curse seemed to have removed Dean’s ability to tamp down on his feelings. And so rare was the gift, that Castiel saw it for what it was and tried his best to keep it. “I would never let that happen,” he promised firmly.

“ _I_ might,” Dean argued, but the second that Castiel’s thumbs swept softly over his cheekbones, he couldn’t make himself fight anymore. His hands shifted to grab fistfuls of the angel’s shirt near his waist and tugged them together, lips and chests meeting at the same time.

It didn’t surprise him that Castiel had little idea what to do with the kiss. He tilted his head, but kept his mouth closed. Eyes shut tightly. Body coiled like he wanted to hocus pocus himself the hell out of that room with a quickness. Still, Dean was far from complaint at the embrace. It was awkward, but Cas’s body against his definitely elicited the right pleasure responses in seconds. At least he knew now. And he wasn’t going to lie to himself and say that he hadn’t been wondering before any of this. Then he broke the kiss and almost laughed at the angel’s shell shocked expression. “Uh, shot in the dark here, but I’m guessing you have no idea what you’re supposed to be doing.”

“Ah,” Castiel seemed to come back to himself, his eyes refocusing on Dean. “I know how this works, I just... this isn’t just sex, Dean. I don’t know how best to help you.” He leaned forward further, sliding the bridges of their noses together, lips only a breath apart. “And I do want to help you.”

Dean’s voice was rough almost beyond recognition when he said, “then just let me.” Gentle fingers loosened in the cotton of Castiel’s shirt. They slid up the ridges and planes of the angel’s firm abs. His nails gently scraped against each rib, moving ever upward until Castiel trembled and sighed, no louder than the sound of the shirt slipping from his shoulders and falling to the ground. He tipped forward to kiss Dean again, this time letting the hunter lead, and learning with a hungry enthusiasm.

The sensations fascinated him. Dean enjoyed making it as tactically rich as possible, he soon discovered. The hunter’s lips were still cold, but soft; pliant. His tongue traced the seam of Castiel’s lips at the same moment Dean’s right hand looped around his waist to thumb the dip at the base of his spine. Castiel moaned, mouth opening. Dean’s tongue flicked out quickly, experimenting with the taste and possibly Castiel’s own limits.

But the only thing the angel could focus on was more of it all. His fingers curled around Dean’s strong forearms, pressing in, though there was no protest as he tilted his head further, deepening the kiss more until Dean squirmed against him. A burst of musk and cinnamon assailed his senses to a dizzying degree. The pheromone response seemed to be adjusting to Castiel’s preferences, though he wasn’t sure even _he_ knew what they were. When they broke apart this time, both of them were panting and Dean’s lips were kiss-swollen.

“Quick learner,” Dean said.

“Is it helping?”

Dean considered the question honestly as he walked them towards the bed. “My body doesn’t hurt like it used to. I still feel like shit because the cravings won’t go away, but it’s not as bad.”

“I’m glad.”

“You still on board with this?” Dean sat down on the edge of the bed, fingers hooked into Castiel’s belt loops, but not tugging him down or forcing him to move at all.

The look of desire and question on Dean’s face convinced Castiel that he wouldn’t be anything else. He lowered himself to his knees on the mattress, slotting himself over Dean’s thighs and jerking his hips a little to feel the length of their erections rubbing together. “Yes,” he murmured.

“Good, because I’m probably going to get to the point of no return pretty soon at this rate.” He bunched his shirt up at the waist and yanked it over his head, tossing it haphazardly towards the bathroom.

“I understand. I won’t change my mind.”

“Me either.” He splayed his hands out on the bed behind his hips to give himself leverage to push up a little, arching his back and his neck in offering. “C’mere, Cas,” he demanded in a low growl.

Castiel bent forward immediately, instincts taking over. The pheromones might have been overwhelming him to make him more compliant to any of Dean’s commands, but he’d followed them all for years now. This situation was no different. He’d seen it on that strange pornography movie with the pizza man. Castiel trailed his lips and teeth lightly over the soft flesh of Dean’s neck and shoulders. He kissed the scars. Nibbled the freckles. Reveled drunkenly in all of it. Dean threw his head back, moaning softly and flushing under the attention. His scent intensified, and Castiel was helpless to stop as Dean’s musk filled his mouth and nose. His fingers traced the hard lines of Dean’s shoulder blades as he applied pressure to keep the hunter from falling back.

Everything about his body and movements felt heavier than they should have. He didn’t know what he was supposed to be doing, but his senses had focused with pin-point precision to every breath, sound, shift. What he didn’t have in experience, he had in certainty of how to answer Dean.

Dean surged up suddenly, shifting against Castiel while the angel traced his hands lower to feel the flex and give of the hunter’s abs when they clenched in ticklish arousal. “Let me take the lead for a bit,” he demanded. Castiel nodded.

He felt a bit foolish rolling onto his back against the mattress and just lying there while Dean knelt above him on hands and knees, licking his lips. Castiel opened his mouth to say something, but before he could make a sound, Dean had sat up on his haunches and unbuckled the angel’s belt. The clink of metal was obscenely loud in the quiet room. Castiel gulped, but made no move to stop him from unbuttoning his trousers, slipping them down his thighs. Then Dean bent down again, kissing him like he was starving for it. Their tongues met and Castiel moaned low in his throat. The _taste_ of it. He’d kissed a few humans in his time, and they’d all been fairly pleasant, but _this_. It overwhelmed him. It was a warm explosion of cinnamon and sin. It went straight to his head. He didn’t even register his body moving until Dean grunted softly. Castiel realized he’d been yanking on the hunter’s short hair and even hooked a leg around the back of his thigh.

Dean ended the kiss in stages. His tongue retreated first, replaced by his teeth nipping gently at Castiel’s full bottom lip. Then he sucked for a moment where his teeth had been. A couple short pecks later, he had retreated far enough back to open his eyes, smiling. “You taste insanely good,” he said with a rough voice.

“You taste like ambrosia,” Castiel slurred.

Dean laughed. “You’re feeling it, I guess? You ready for more?”

“Yes. Anything, Dean.” There was no difference between a request or confirmation at this point.

He felt the tickle of Dean’s hair and the quick rasp of stubble a moment before a hot mouth touched right over his heart. Down lower to his nipple. The contact had the angel’s back bowing off the bed and hands grappling against Dean’s shoulders. It was almost like he was being shocked with electricity. And it felt _amazing_. “More,” he moaned.

Dean’s mouth traveled ever lower, and each inch down felt more intense to Castiel. His cock throbbed and twitched, heavy against his hip. And he soon discovered that, though he had no practical experience in this area with another male, Dean seemed to enjoy the enthusiasm of his instinct. Castiel didn’t bother to quiet his voice as the hunter layered kiss over kiss all along his skin. He allowed his baser instincts to direct him; body rolling and moving against Dean above him and hands gripping tightly in the other man’s hair as he traveled lower still.

When Dean pressed a small kiss against the head of Castiel’s cock, the angel jolted and cried out, hands twitching against Dean’s scalp. In that moment, Dean ceased to be able to control himself. His head came forward and he raised up on his forearms slightly to slide the angel’s dick into his mouth as far as he could and painstakingly slow. The suction nearly made Castiel’s eyes cross with pleasure and he raised himself up onto his elbows to get a better view of the hunter hollowing his cheeks while his head bobbed.

It seemed like he could keep at it forever, the way that Dean’s eyes fluttered shut while he worked Castiel over. And it wasn’t far from the truth of it. Dean savored every single sensation ricocheting through his body. The heavy weight of Castiel’s length in his mouth, the texture of the sensitive vein running along the underside where he tongued it, the salt of pre-come in the back of his throat. Even the angel’s tight grip in his hair felt heavenly, like everything was settling finally. The roiling chills and discomfort ebbed from his body gently with each breathy moan and half-delirious word he pulled from Castiel. He knew nothing about being an incubus aside from the lore written by those who hunted them, but every last fiber of his being screamed that _this_ was what he needed. Deep in his bones. The only thing. He needed Castiel to lose his _mind_ over him. He needed him to come.

Bracing his weight on his left arm, Dean brought his right hand up to fondle Castiel’s balls as he increased his pace in increments. He enjoyed that the angel gave himself up so thoroughly to the experience. It made him much easier to read. The cues might as well have been broadcast in neon lights. Castiel’s breathing hitched and his breath shuddered out of his lungs. His balls tightened in Dean’s hand, and he didn’t even have the time to warn the hunter before he was crying out loud and hoarse as he came. His body seized and then released, and in that instant, there was a flash of blue light and his wings erupted from his back, black and glistening as he spilled hot down Dean’s throat.

Dean drank down every last drop that he milked from Castiel, staring openly at the angel’s large wings coupled with his wrecked expression, frozen in ecstasy. It wasn’t a stretch at all to say that it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He moved his right hand off of Castiel and grabbed firmly around his own dick, pumping himself quickly. It didn’t take long for his own intense orgasm to white out his vision for a moment as he bit his lip and groaned, spilling onto his fist and over Castiel’s thigh.

After several minutes of nothing but heavy breathing steadily returning to normal, he pulled himself up and off of Castiel to sit back on his haunches, straddling the angel’s thighs. “Cas,” he said, voice rough from the blow job. “Is that...? Are you okay?”

Blue eyes blinked open and took a moment to focus on him. “Forgive me,” he answered. “I didn’t know it would be that... intense. I lost myself for a moment.”

Dean grinned. “That’s a damn fine compliment.”

“How do _you_ feel?” Castiel asked, scrunching his face a bit in concentration as he willed the wings to disappear. It took a minute, but gradually they folded and shimmered before they faded completely from sight.

“I feel...” Dean paused. Took stock. Aches and pains? Gone. Headache? Abated. Exhaustion? Just a memory. “I’m fine,” he said honestly. “Better than ever.”

Castiel’s look of concentration morphed to one of concern. “Is there anything else that I can do for you?”

Willfully ignoring the sting of the clinical-sounding question, Dean gestured to his own limp dick. “You did plenty, man. This is the first time I’ve been fully limp in days. That’s a big deal.”

Castiel’s smile was small. “I’m glad I could help. I will do anything that I can. You know that.”

Dean’s smile teetered towards more of a grimace now that he was completely clear-headed. He couldn’t deny anymore that he’d always been attracted to the nerdy angel, but it felt a bit like this was the greatest gift he’d ever been given. And that was saying something, considering the angel had pulled him out of Hell and made deals with devil just to keep him alive and fighting for another day. None of them had cut Dean to the quick like this, though. All he could do was hope Sam and Charlie could geek their way to a solution before it became more than he was willing to handle. “I know that,” he said after a pause. “I do. Thanks, Cas. Don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Castiel shifted out from under Dean to reach over and collect his clothes. “With a little luck, you’ll never find out,” he answered.

Dean kept his eyes on Castiel’s broad, muscled back where his wings had been as the other man dressed himself. Yeah. That was _exactly_ what he was worried about.


	2. Chapter 02

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlie has an idea. Dean thinks he might be in for more than he bargained for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, y'all thank you so much for your kind words and the warm reception this story has gotten right off the bat! I'm over the moon about it and even slightly overwhelmed with happiness! Please keep the comments coming if you feel so inclined!
> 
> Also, please note the rating on this fic. Dean's an incubus. There's gonna be a lot of NSFW content, maybe even in every chapter. Thank you!
> 
> Also, also, no, I don't have a beta for this. All the mistakes are mine. If you notice anything, please let me know!

Dean wasn’t sure exactly what to do with himself once Castiel left. What had he been expecting, anyway? He himself wasn’t exactly the “cuddle until morning” type, but it still seemed sort of... abrupt. He ran his hand down his face, scratching at his stubble. The hell was the matter with it, anyway? There was a lot between the both of them; good and bad. And maybe even _too_ much to make it all worthwhile. But the mountains had been built somehow and he had to believe that they were stable. Overthinking the whole thing could only lead down a path that neither of them wanted to go.

Still, in his heart of hearts, Dean was happy it had been Castiel. Their options for a non-human partner were limited, true, but not impossible. He could have said no. He could have touched two fingers to the hunter’s forehead and probably healed him quite nicely for a couple more days. Knocked him out. Something. And the more Dean thought about it, the more he realized that the angel had pretty much offered him every last thing already at some point or another. He’d said he’d do anything for Dean, and so far, had only proved time and again that he had no idea how to exaggerate.

Not like Dean was going to look a gift horse in the mouth. He was comfortable now, and didn’t feel as though his own body wasn’t under his control. He’d been telling the honest truth to Castiel that he felt fine. Normal. All cravings gone and the meter set back to zero. They’d been trying to buy some time, and it had worked. And for the first time since the whole mess had begun, Dean flopped back onto his bed and fell asleep in seconds.

 

 

~ o ~ x ~ xoXox ~ x ~ o ~

 

 

When he woke up, the clock on his dresser informed him that it was almost noon. Not too shabby. It was the longest sleep he’d had in years, curse or not. No cold sweats, no nightmares, no wishing that he could just claw his skin off. He turned over onto his back and stretched long and leisurely, luxuriating in the fact that the covers sliding along his sleep warmed skin didn’t cause him to clench and shudder with discomfort. After staring at the ceiling for a few minutes to let his mind wander itself out of its half-dozing haze, he kicked his feet over the edge of the bed and stood up to dress. Figuring he might as well take advantage of the reprieve before clothes felt like they were coated in glass shards again, he pulled on faded jeans, a black t-shirt, and a well-worn green flannel shirt. Still felt normal.

He found Castiel and Sam sitting at the table in the main room, both with noses down in a growing stack of ancient books. Sam looked up first.

“Hey! Dean, you’re up! Are you-”

Dean cut him off with a wave of his hand as he passed by to go to the kitchen for coffee. “I’m fine. Really. Back to normal for now.” The coffee pot was still on and almost full, much to Dean’s delight. He may have had plenty of sleep the night before, but he was still dragging with lingering fatigue. He poured himself a large mug and added sugar just for the extra energy boost, then shuffled to the table, collapsing heavily into the chair next to Castiel. “Find anything else yet?”

Before either Sam or Castiel could answer, they heard the slam of the heavy fallout doors on the upper level. Charlie appeared a moment later. She saluted them all from the balcony. “‘Morning, bitches,” she said wearily as she padded down the stairs without her usual enthusiasm. She heaved her laptop bag onto the table and sank slowly into the chair at the head of the table with a large sigh.

“You been up all night?” Dean asked as he slid his mug across the polished wood to her. She took it gratefully.

“Yeah, but no big. Haven’t pulled an all-nighter in years, but I thought I was getting somewhere with my last trail, so I stuck it out.”

“Anything?”

She scrunched her nose. “Bupkis.”

Dean leaned back in his chair. Of course it was too much to hope for. But he didn’t exactly feel the same anger about her announcement as he would have. In fact, he didn’t feel much about it one way or another.

“Dean?”

That thought alone probably should have put up some red flags, but it didn’t. His eyebrows came together thoughtfully. Maybe it was something about the curse itself.

“Dean.”

Like, sure the effects of withdrawal were muted now, but what if sating his urges muted _all_ of them? It made sense, right? His hearing and vision had returned to reasonable levels as well.

“Um. Dean.”

In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he realized that he wasn’t much of _anything_. Not hungry, thirsty, tired, happy, sad. Hell, he hadn’t even felt like he needed to take a piss even after a long sleep. Was that weird? Should he be worried?

“ _Dean_!”

His eyes flashed up to Sam. “What?” he snapped.

His brother inclined his head and gave him a significant look. “You’re doing... uh.”

It took Dean a moment to become aware of his body again. And when he did, he reacted like he’d sat on a cactus, shooting up from his chair and falling several steps back. He wasn’t sure how it had happened, but while lost in his thoughts, he’d drifted closer to Castiel until he’d been leaning on the angel’s arm. Man, he hoped Sam had only noticed _that_ part and not the part where he’d also been running his palm lightly over the angel’s thigh.

“Fuck, I’m sorry!” he said, holding his hands up in a stalling motion.

“No harm done,” Castiel replied mildly, though he _did_ appear slightly pained. Though whether it was because of the contact or the relinquishing thereof, was impossible to tell.

Then Sam said those six words that never failed to set Dean’s teeth on edge. “We need to talk about this.”

Charlie looked completely awake now, her wide hazel eyes flitting between Castiel and Dean with ill-hidden curiosity. “Well, _this_ is an interesting plot twist,” she said.

“Oh?” Castiel turned to face her better. “How so?”

“Dude,” Charlie snorted like she was about to state the most obvious thing in the world, “Dean was touching you.”

The angel’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “I don’t understand. Dean and I touch frequently.”

“Okay, rephrase. Dean was feeling you up.”

Sam let out a strangled groan at the same time Dean jumped in indignantly, “oh, come on! I was not. It’s gotta be... I dunno, the incubus mojo or something. Aftereffect.”

“I was wrong about wanting to talk about this,” Sam amended with a pinched expression.

Castiel cut them all off. “Dean’s probably correct,” he said in his semi-expressionless scholarly tone. “We might not have considered the side effects of appealing to the incubus instinct.”

Charlie put her chin in her hand, deeply entertained with the way the conversation was going. “What do you mean?”

Sparing a brief glance to Dean, Castiel continued, “before, we were only concerned with finding a way for Dean to stop suffering. However... we should probably have discussed earlier that him _acting_ like an incubus, would gradually make him _become_ more of an incubus.”

That statement alone should have sent Dean’s mind roiling with a hundred different horrible scenarios, but... it didn’t. He found himself unimpressed with the idea for the moment. “But I’m not, like, fully there yet, right?” he asked, just for something to say.

“The full transformation takes time,” Charlie chipped in. “And the clincher is the human offering. So, I imagine you’re still good to go for now. I mean, even though we didn’t talk about it at length, he’s not, like... doing _all_ the incubus-y things, right?”

Both Sam and Castiel nodded their agreement.

“Then let’s stop bitching about it and get back to work,” Dean muttered gruffly. “I’ll just be more careful from now on.” To forgo another argument, he went back to the kitchen to get himself another cup of coffee, and this time sat on the opposite side of the table from Castiel. He even surreptitiously stretched his legs out under the table as far as he could to make sure the incubus curse wouldn’t force him to zone out and play footsie with Castiel while he was busy going brain dead and pawing at him.

Sam sat forward in his chair. “Last question, then. Is it going to get better or worse? I hate to ask this, but... Cas... what exactly did you do?”

Dean flinched, but Castiel answered right away, seemingly unaffected by the conversation. “I helped heal Dean,” he said. And he announced it in such an unassuming way that Dean could tell by the look on his brother’s face that he had no clue what they’d been up to the night before. Sam probably came to the conclusion he always did; Castiel had used his grace fully clothed. The less he knew the better. Castiel had always been adept at “need to know only.”

“Fine,” Sam said. “So then, back to my previous question. If you keep healing him, will the urges get worse or better? It’s bad enough how you were before, Dean, but just now it was like you spaced out and didn’t even know what you were doing.”

“I did and I didn’t,” Dean said. “I’ll just have to keep myself on top of this thing. No daydreaming on the job, right? I got this.”

Sam looked unconvinced, and he opened his mouth to say something further, but seeing Dean and Castiel’s lack of concern, finally shrugged wordlessly and turned back to his books.

Dean grabbed a tome from the bottom of the stack and flipped it open randomly, skimming the pages. He could practically feel Charlie’s eyes on him and knew he’d never get away with half-truths with her. Mentally, he prepared himself for her onslaught later.

 

 

~ o ~ x ~ xoXox ~ x ~ o ~

 

 

Later, as it turned out, had more to offer than Dean worrying about Charlie ambushing him for the details on his healing. While Dean was busy in the kitchen grilling up burgers for them all, the redhead discovered something that might finally be useful. Everyone was starting to flag after a full day of research, but suddenly Charlie pushed up to a sitting position from where she’d been slouching and aimlessly browsing the web with her chin resting on her forearm. “Ah!” she cried. “Pay dirt!”

Sam and Castiel perked up at her exclamation and Dean poked his head around the corner.

She focused on the screen for a minute, scrolling rapidly until Sam cleared his throat and said, “uh, care to fill us in?”

“Yeah, totally,” she answered. “It’s... well, okay, it’s not much, but it’s not nothing, either. I’ve been looking through these occult archive sites. Not those dumb conspiracy theory ones, but the good ones. Off the Google search, y’know? Anyway, there’s this spell book here that mentions ‘purifying and purging curses and spells.’ There’s a lot here. High level stuff. I’m not entirely sure if there’s anything we can _actually_ use, but it looks like they’re talking about more than just witches hexing people. It’s like... it mentions cures for vampirism and stuff. Maybe we can find some commonalities in the spells and try to come up with one for Dean? I dunno. Just another string to chase.”

Sam scooted into the chair beside her to peer over her shoulder. “We’ll take anything at this point. And it’s not a terrible idea. Cas, do you think we’d be able to modify a spell or something? Is that even possible?”

Thoughtfully, Castiel crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s not unheard of,” he said reasonably. “Ancient witches learned of curses and hexes largely from experimentation and legends passed down. With their knowledge, they often modified any number of spells that they preferred. It’s why spells vary from region to region. The availability of ingredients and wider knowledge of the witch makes a difference. If we were able to learn what makes certain spells and incantations so potent, we may be able to modify one to suit our purposes.”

“Yeah, that’s great and all,” Dean said from the doorway, agitatedly tapping the spatula against his leg. “But none of us are ancient witches. We don’t know enough to be able to tweak a recipe and not kill me or turn me into something weird.”

Castiel looked over to him seriously and Dean felt a small flutter in his sternum. His blue eyes were... something else today. The angel chuckled and Dean’s toes twitched and curled briefly in his socks. “Well, then, we need a witch.”

“ _Pfft_ ,” Charlie scoffed. “Or a computer genius who can run algorithms to find patterns and similarities in the genre of spells we’re looking at. Probably safer than finding an _actual_ witch. Nothing good ever comes of that. And, truth be told, I’m sorta stoked to hack a spell book, y’know? New school meets old school. Pretty exciting!”

Sam shrugged in general agreement. Castiel appeared confused. Dean rolled his shoulders.

“Look,” he said carefully. “Let’s just... make sure it’s all above water before we do anything. No spells or experiments until we know it won’t do something like knock me out of existence.”

“Agreed,” Sam said. “Charlie, work your magic. Excuse the pun. Let’s see what we come up with.”

She gave him an enthusiastic thumbs up. “You got it.” And then her fingers were flying over her keyboard, oblivious to the world around her.

Dean smiled. “Girl’s in her element.”

“Let’s leave her to it,” Sam agreed, motioning for Castiel to rejoin him in searching their hardcover books while Dean turned back to the kitchen to finish their lunch. It was comforting to know that everyone had his back in their own ways. They were all working their hardest to figure it all out. For Dean’s benefit alone. But no matter his feelings on the matter at the moment, or lack thereof, he didn’t want to be on the business end of a hunt later.

He scooped the burgers onto toasted buns and brought them into the main room with condiments. Castiel took his with a pleased smile. Dean grinned. Angel or not, his vessel’s love of red meat carried over. Sam loaded his with ketchup and mustard before taking a huge bite and nodding his approval. Charlie ignored hers until Dean tugged a lock of her red hair to get her attention. She dug in, still typing with one hand.

They passed several hours in companionable silence, studying the books and checking periodically on Charlie’s progress. When Dean checked the clock again, it was starting to get late. “Maybe we should take a break for the night,” he said, mostly for Charlie’s benefit. Despite being excited to apply her computer skills to the archived books, dark circles hung under her dull eyes and her shoulders drooped noticeably.

With a sigh, she stretched her neck and shoulders. “Good call,” she said, the words cracking on a yawn. “I can let this program run for a while. Mind if I crash in one of the spare rooms?”

“You’re always welcome to,” Sam answered, rubbing his own tired eyes. “Stay as long as you like.”

“Good, I brought my jammies.” She jumped out of her chair and grabbed the backpack at her feet, moving towards the living quarters with more bounce in her step then would have been expected of someone who hadn’t slept in nearly two days. Sam called it a night, too, leaving Dean and Castiel alone. Now the silence felt heavier.

Dean shifted in his seat. Closed the book he’d been reading and picked up another. Flipped through the pages without focusing on any of it. Repeated the process. Stood up and went to get a beer. The whole time, Castiel’s eyes remained on him while Dean tried his best to ignore them. Would that he could. The others had put a bit of a damper on his constant awareness of the angel, but now that they were alone, his body was whispering at him to take notice properly.

It wasn’t as acute as the first time. The ache was duller. But he could smell the storm and lightning again. It crept across the table until it was in his head. As much as he tried to ignore it, it consumed him slowly. The memories of having Cas in his mouth resurfaced. The taste of his musk. The sounds that he made.

“Dean,” the angel said.

He couldn’t help meeting Castiel’s eyes. And he couldn’t help how it fogged over his brain. “Cas.”

“You seem...” his voice trailed off.

“Sorry,” Dean winced.

“It’s fine. I simply thought that my help would have lasted longer.”

Dean rubbed the back of his neck. “It did. I mean... it has. I’m not jonesing for it right now or anything. It’s just... you being around me. I guess since we did all that stuff before, my body’s sort of... familiar with it. Wants more. I guess.” His voice lowered more and more as he spoke until it was barely a mumble.

“Ah. I understand.” Castiel moved and Dean could feel himself responding. His muscles tensed with the need to get out of the chair and approach the angel. He fought the instinct and was surprised that it was so difficult to do so.

And Castiel seemed drawn to the hunter as well. A buzz beneath his skin that pulled him ever closer as he stared at Dean carefully. He’d said that he wasn’t in pain or suffering in any way, so he shouldn’t say anything about it, but... “do you need me, Dean?” he asked quietly.

Dean swallowed audibly. “Not really.” The words sounded forced.

His fingers itched. But he didn’t want to scratch them. He wanted to touch Dean. See what it was like to allow himself to meet a craving since angels weren’t supposed to have them. His fingertips touched Dean’s jaw, right below his ear. He trailed down lower to the collar of his shirt. Dean did nothing to stop him. “It would appear that I am not immune to your call,” he said.

Dean closed his eyes. When he opened them his pupils were huge. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I don’t mean to.”

“I know.” Castiel let himself sink more into the craving as he slid between Dean’s chair and the table. The hunter’s hands slipped under his trench coat and up his chest. Yes. That feeling. Indefinable and important. A rush of want sailed over him and he shut his eyes to revel in it, taking a deep breath to take in the intoxicating smell. “I’m not opposed to this,” he said breathlessly.

“That’s the problem,” Dean answered, equally winded, though his body acted as though it was out of his control as his fingers worked to unbutton the angel’s shirt. “It’s like I’m drugging you or something. Doesn’t sit well with me.” He freed half of the buttons and dipped his hands inside, splaying against Castiel’s chest, blunt nails digging into his pecs. He groaned and his muscles tensed to push Castiel away, but instead drew him closer.

Castiel hissed softly and rubbed his hips down, pleased to find the hunter as hard as he was. “Can you resist it?”

Dean swallowed again. Cleared his throat, but his voice was still hoarse when he said, “I don’t think so.”

Before he knew it, Castiel had removed Dean’s over shirt and worked his fingers under the collar of his t-shirt to feel the flex of Dean’s taut shoulder muscles. It felt like heaven. “Then don’t. I can do this much for you.”

Dean’s lips parted to say something, but it was too much. Far too much. The incubus pheromones were working their way through his body and leaving a trail of fire from his nose to his lungs. Telling him that he couldn’t resist. That he didn’t need to. That _Dean_ could make it all better. Make it all perfect. Castiel leaned down and pressed his lips to the hunter’s. For as much as his body burned for _more, more, more_ , the kiss was surprisingly gentle. And Dean didn’t try to rush it. He slid their lips together, mouths closed until it was the only contact at the forefront of either of their minds.

For his part, Castiel reveled in it. He hadn’t taken enough time before to _truly_ enjoy the feeling, but now it was different. It was wonderful. As if every nerve ending was tuned into the tactility of Dean’s full lips against his. Vaguely he was aware that his hands were moving and exploring, but it was all secondary to his mouth.

And he thought that it was good enough just like this for as long as they could stand it, but then Dean pressed forward more firmly and their tongues met. It was simultaneously the most electrifying and calming sensation yet. Beyond the sweet-hot flavor that the incubus poison carried with it was the underlying musk that was uniquely Dean’s, and that was the flavor that Castiel chased.

Dean’s heart sped up at Castiel’s enthusiasm, his arms wrapping around him more tightly. Quick learner. Everything he did with his teeth and tongue was far more effective than it had been the last time. Not that he’d had anything to complain about then. Smoothly, he worked his hands down Castiel’s body, shivering at the coursing current of pleasure wracking his body, and deftly undid the fastenings on both of their pants. When he freed both of their aching cocks from the confines of their boxers and took them in hand together, Castiel made a sound like a parched man after his first drink of water. He broke the kiss to mumble something unintelligible against his mouth.

Pressing his lips lower against Castiel’s neck, right above the collar of his shirt he said, “let me. I just... I just need to.”

Castiel clung to him tightly, spread his legs as wide as he could, and let Dean lead them both to the edge. It frightened Castiel a little bit, these warring sensations. The pleasure was almost unbearable. The touches almost overwhelming. The desire almost deafening in its insistence. Everything just to the side of way too much. But if it stopped, it would never be enough. He _knew_ that and couldn’t understand it.

But Dean’s hands were warm and rough and sure around their dicks. He worked them over expertly, his thumb brushing over the head of Castiel’s dick every time he swiped up and twisted his wrist.

 _Too much. Too much. I can’t. It’s too much._ He came faster than the last time and harder. He couldn’t even cry out. Once again his wings arched out and gusted them with a swoop of air. A low growl escaped his chest belatedly as he soaked in the euphoric high.

Castiel buried his nose in the crook of Dean’s neck and breathed hot against him, pulling in the smell. “Dean,” he managed to say. Then he startled almost violently when he felt the hunter’s fingers crawl up his back to where his wings met his skin. His eyes shot open to stare at Dean, but the other man’s eyes were still closed tightly. He stroked the broad curve of the wing down to the feathers.

Castiel trembled at the touch, surprised at the spark of renewed arousal. He clenched his hands into Dean’s soft cotton shirt, right over his ribs. “Dean, I-”

“You can feel that?” the hunter asked in a wrecked voice.

A shudder wracked the angel’s body. “No one’s ever touched- _ah_ \- it’s... I didn’t know...”

Dean continued to stroke his wing until even the long, dark feathers began to tremble. “They’re warm,” he murmured. “Never felt anything quite like it. Is this okay?”

“Ye...yes,” Castiel gasped. His head fell back, neck arching. He wasn’t hard again, but the pleasure felt the same as before. He wasn’t sure what would happen if Dean kept touching him that way. The uncertainty terrified him. But he trusted Dean.

The hunter did not disappoint. He spread his fingers and let single feathers slide between them. It was intense. Incredible. When Castiel squeezed his eyes shut, he saw stars. When he couldn’t stand it anymore, he took Dean’s straining dick in his hand and pumped him for all he was worth. Like the hunter had been doing to him.

Dean cursed and squirmed, panting and breathing out praises against his skin. He came just as forcefully as Castiel had before, and when he did, the angel felt the shockwave straight to his core. Something inside him strained towards Dean like it was trying to force its way out. A desperation clawing at him. Castiel sighed and let it happen. Mentally relaxed and opened his mind to the hunter. Whatever it was faded away after a moment. He felt Dean’s rapid heartbeat gradually calm.

He began to lift himself up after he found himself centered again. But Dean’s arms around him tightened like a vise.

“Don’t do that,” Dean said, nose pressed to Castiel’s hair. “Don’t leave like you did last time. I need you to stay here for a minute.”

Castiel’s heart thudded in his chest. It seemed incongruous. Out of character. Dean didn’t enjoy prolonged touching. Or intimacy after the fact. Or terms of endearment. Or anything else that Castiel had been left aching for last night. He didn’t know why, and had briefly considered that Dean’s cravings had actually transferred to him. Perhaps not. He’d thought that he’d been giving Dean exactly what he needed, but certainly wouldn’t complain about this situation. It was warm and comfortable. “Of course, Dean,” he said at length. “Anything you need.”


	3. Chapter 03

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlie makes a list of ingredients for the spell. Dean and Castiel travel half way around the world to retrieve them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've said this already, but all of you are the best! Once again, no beta so there are probably plenty of mistakes in the chapter. :D
> 
> Thank you for your continued support and your comments! Please keep them coming! Even the incoherent screaming ones!

Two days later, Charlie announced that her program was finally starting to show some results. She didn’t have anything definitive, but it was starting to parse out typical ingredients and at least somewhere that they could start looking instead of twiddling their thumbs.

Sam bought them all breakfast after his run as they convened at the table for a war meeting. He passed around a bag of bagels and placed a cardboard carrying container with coffees in the center of the table. Dean and Charlie grabbed theirs right away before settling in. After they’d loaded their bagels and claimed their drinks, Charlie got down to business.

“So, the program hasn’t totally finished running yet, but we’re getting some good results so far and some things that we can work with. Ingredients, mostly. I’m having the algorithm work on the easy stuff first. Meaning, things in English, or at least still-spoken languages. A lot of the spells are in ancient languages, which is so _totally_ unhelpful, but I’m working on some translation software.”

She hit the print button on her machine and the small desktop printer spit out a few pages. She whipped them out and held them up. Castiel took the sheets. Dean came up behind him to peer over his shoulder. “What do we have here?”

“Hmm,” the angel said. While reviewing the pages, in a corner of his mind, he remembered the thing about “personal space” Dean always harped on. Castiel himself wasn’t exactly an expert on human interaction, but he was still fairly sure that Dean was violating his own rule with the way that his warm breath ghosted over Castiel’s neck. _Positive_ of the violation when the hunter shifted his weight to his left foot, bringing him minutely closer, and ran his right hand down Castiel’s shoulder to his bent elbow. He gripped the angel’s forearm gently and adjusted his arm out more so that Dean could see the paper more easily. Castiel was unsure whether the gesture was meant to be intimate, but it _felt_ that way. Goosebumps rose on his skin and he suppressed the involuntary shudder that nearly overtook him.

“Are these all plants?” Dean asked, glancing up at Charlie, whose look of surprise was causing her eyebrows to nearly disappear into her hairline.

“Yeaaah,” she drew out the word. Stared pointedly for another moment.

“Okay? So?” Dean prompted irritably, as if unaware of what he was doing.

“Um...” Charlie blinked. Turned back to her computer. Shook her head wryly, then refocused on the task at hand. “Well... you’re right, I guess. Plants. Lots of them. Most of them are super common, but...” She shrugged a shoulder, turning her attention back to the men. Dean didn’t miss her profound expression as she watched them and elected to ignore it.

Castiel pointed his finger to a list item. “These few are extremely rare. Perhaps extinct.”

“Great,” Dean grouched. “So what the hell are we supposed to do?”

Castiel folded the note carefully into a neat square. He slipped it into his inner jacket pocket and then turned to Dean. “We’re supposed to search.”

Dean’s shoulders slumped a little. “Awesome. Anything we can do right now?”

Charlie clicked a few more keys. “Well, most of this we can get online. Herbs, crystals, whatever.” She looked on Castiel with sympathy. “Gonna need your angel mojo for the rest, though.”

He wasn’t put out in the least. “It’s no problem. I’ll help in any way that I can.”

She beamed. “Great! I’ll track down the easy ingredients while we’re waiting for my algorithms to finish. Don’t worry, Dean. You’ll be back to, well, _you_ in no time.”

Dean stepped away from Castiel with a small sigh. “Thanks, Charlie. You’re doing great so far. Cas, what’s the word?”

The corner of Castiel’s mouth tipped up in a half smile. “I know where to find some of these already.”

“Good, let’s get on it, then,” Dean said clapping his hands together. “Time’s a’wasting!”

Castiel nodded and turned fully to face the hunter. He pressed two fingers against Dean’s forehead without another word. Dean barely got his mouth open to vehemently protest what he knew was about to happen, but then there was a lurch, tight compression against his skin, and when he blinked again, they were in the mountains somewhere and it was fucking _freezing_. His teeth began chattering immediately. “What the fuck?” he demanded, wrapping his arms tightly around his thinly clad torso. So much for wearing a t-shirt and thin hoodie. “Where the hell are we? Couldn’t you at least have let me put on a damn coat?”

Castiel’s eyes widened in surprise. “I forgot humans feel the cold so acutely,” he said, removing his own trench coat and holding it out. “I probably should have consulted the weather report.”

Scowling, Dean snatched it out of his hands and put it on swiftly. “Ya think?” he muttered. It didn’t help much in the biting wind, but the trench coat smelled strongly of Castiel, which made a familiar warmth bloom in his chest. “Next time fill me in _before_ the shazam, all right?”

“Of course. My apologies.”

Dean flipped the collar of the coat up, glancing around to the forest around them. When he turned east he could see nearly bare mountains, but no signs of civilization. “Seriously, where are we?”

“Japan,” Castiel answered mildly. “Hokkaido, specifically.”

“What the _fuck_ ,” Dean muttered, breath puffing out white in front of him. “Why are we in Japan?”

“There’s a rare fern on this list which grows in these mountains.” He pointed towards an overgrown path down the mountain several yards away. “If we follow that, we should find it.”

Just to get his extremities circulating and warmed up more, Dean trudged towards the path, happy at least that he was wearing his heavy work boots. “How do you even know that?” he asked after a minute.

“I come here sometimes to meditate. I’ve traveled to many places since coming to Earth. I’ve found that I enjoy the wilderness in all its forms.”

Dean grunted, watching his footing as he kicked at some loose rocks that skittered down the path ahead of them. “Must be nice. I wondered where you went sometimes when you disappear. Figured you just went home.”

“Home?”

Dean paused and turned to see Castiel’s brow creased in confusion. “Yeah, man,” he said. “Like back to Heaven?”

“Ah,” Castiel said thoughtfully, expression clearing. “It’s been some time since I’ve thought of Heaven as my home.”

Dean’s lips twisted like he’d just tasted something sour. “Sorry. Sore spot for you.”

Castiel shook his head and resumed walking. “I’m happy on Earth,” he said easily, and it sounded completely sincere. Dean wasn’t sure why, but it made the warmth in his chest expand more.

They walked in silence down towards the valley for several minutes. Dean didn’t even pretend that he knew which plant they were looking for. In fact, he had no idea why Castiel would have brought him along in the first place. It certainly wasn’t for protection since they’d zapped away before collecting any weapons. And he wasn’t exactly an expert at plants and herbs. If he didn’t know any better, he’d have thought that Castiel just wanted the company. The thought made him snicker. The angel came up beside him, placing his surprisingly warm hand over Dean’s wrist to stop him. Damn angels and their perfectly tuned inner thermostats. “Over there.” He directed them to a tangle of drooping greenery clustered around a copse of dormant wild cherry trees.

Dean waited on the path while Castiel bent down to gently pluck several of the unassuming leaves from the ferns, considering each one thoughtfully before tucking them into his suit’s lapel pocket. While the angel did his thing, Dean wrapped his arms around himself again and bounced lightly on the balls of his feet to stay warm. The sky above them was dusky and grey. He wasn’t sure if it was cold enough to snow, but every gust of wind up the mountainside sure as shit felt like it. “We done?” he asked after another minute. “I’m freezing my balls off.”

Castiel straightened up and dusted his hands off. “I’m finished now.” He turned to face the hunter. “Why don’t we go somewhere to get warm?”

“Halle-freaking-lujah,” Dean said sarcastically. “Zap us on back home so I can take a warm bath.”

“About that...” Castiel paused, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “I can’t do that right now.”

Dean took a step forward. Enunciating every single word with a severe undertone, he said, “what do you mean, Cas?”

The angel cast his eyes to the dirt rather than meeting Dean’s accusing gaze directly. Dirt was always so much more understanding. “I didn’t know that the trip would be so tiring for me.”

“You’re out of mojo?” Dean demanded, shocked. “How? I mean, it’s just Japan. You didn’t even pull us back in time or anything. I thought this shit was easy for you!”

Scuffing the ground with his dress shoe, Castiel answered, “normally it is. That’s why I didn’t think twice about bringing us here. I seem to have misjudged my exhaustion after being your offering these past few days.”

Taken aback, Dean said, “wait. So, am I, like... making you sick? Are you okay?” Unconsciously he reached out and touched Castiel’s arm.

“I’m fine,” the angel assured him, swaying just slightly towards him. “I feel perfectly normal. My powers simply need more time to recharge. I should probably refrain from using them unnecessarily until you are healed.”

Dean wiped a hand down his face, sighing. “Okay, great. So we’re stranded on a mountain in Japan. Awesome. Do you happen to know of a place nearby where we can get warm? I wouldn’t normally complain about camping, but it’s cold and I’m hungry and I prefer not to be stuck out here after dark.”

“Naturally,” Castiel answered evenly. “I do know of a place. It’s a bit far, so forgive me. I’ll have to use my powers again to get us there.”

Groaning, Dean moved himself closer. “Right on. Do what you gotta do. As long as there’s food and central heating, I couldn’t care less.”

Castiel reached out with a pitying expression. “Central heating is unfortunately rare in this country.” Dean’s eyes widened in protest just in time for the angel to touch him, and they were gone again.

 

 

~ o ~ x ~ xoXox ~ x ~ o ~

 

 

Dean blinked rapidly several times to clear the dizzy haze before looking around. They were standing on a narrow, quiet street. One deep breath in, and Dean thought that he could smell the ocean. He turned his head and saw a crystalline sea beyond a concrete sea wall at the end of the road. “Wow,” he said, for lack of anything better.

“I have stayed here in the past,” Castiel said by way of explanation, pointing towards a traditional, nondescript building. It was paneled in large, wide planks the color of straw and deep blue tiles on the roof. Dark, lacquered wood signs hung just over the entrance with kanji that Dean couldn’t read. “We’re at an onsen,” Castiel answered before the other man had the chance to ask. “I believe you will find it very relaxing.”

Helpless to do anything else, Dean followed Castiel through the front doors to where a middle-aged woman waited behind the reception desk, dressed in a full kimono. She bowed respectfully and greeted them in English. Castiel answered her greeting in Japanese. The woman straightened. She paused for a moment, her smile flickering. Then she was out from behind the counter in a flash and going straight to Castiel. She bowed several more times, suddenly speaking in excited, rapid-fire Japanese. Castiel answered her calmly, though with a large smile of his own, bowing every time she did. She gestured enthusiastically to bring them back to the desk while Dean watched on, stunned. He watched them talking more as Castiel filled out a ledger entry. A minute later, the woman handed him a room key and bowed again. So did Castiel, then he turned to Dean.

“We’re in luck. They had a room available for us.”

“Sure,” Dean answered weakly. He trotted behind Castiel as the angel led them past the reception area to the stairs. Wordlessly he guided them up to the top floor, turned the corner, and walked to the end of the hall. Dean admired the place, freely looking around to get his fill while they walked. It had a lovely ambiance. Peaceful, ancient, traditional, with warm orange lighting encased in large rice paper lanterns suspended from the ceiling that glowed on all the highly polished wooden surfaces. The minimalistic decor appealed to him, as did the quiet of the place. Neat and orderly.

Castiel opened the door to their room, and bent down to remove his shoes. He placed them carefully outside the door and instructed Dean to do the same. He ignored the provided slippers, instead going into the room in his socks.

“This is amazing,” Dean said as he shut the door quietly behind him. The room was as simply decorated as the rest of the common areas, but brighter. Tatami mats covered most of the floor, the walls were a comfortable slate color, and two futons were already unfolded and laying side by side in the corner. The middle of the room featured a low, black table with cushions around it and an electric kettle in the center. The back wall was made up of sliding rice paper panels that diffused the early evening light. Castiel padded over to push the panels open.

“The view hasn’t changed,” Castiel said happily, looking out past the balcony that housed a private bath lined in smooth, gray stones, onto the ocean beyond. “It’s still so beautiful.”

Dean sauntered up beside him, stopping only when his arm was lightly pressed against Castiel’s back. He gave a low whistle. “Seriously, it’s amazing here. How did you know about this place?”

“I came here for the first time a few centuries ago,” Castiel said matter-of-factly. Dean’s mouth fell open, but the angel ignored it. “Over time I’ve found myself drawn back sometimes. I enjoy it here. The veil feels... thin.”

“Veil? Like where all the ghosts go instead of Heaven or Hell?” Dean asked, still unable to take his eyes off of the steadily setting sun over the ocean. It was remarkable now that they were out of the mountains where the sky had been white and pregnant with the promise of rain. Or snow. Here it lit up with brilliant reds and oranges which rapidly faded into purples behind them, the glassy water picking up the shine until it made Dean’s eyes water to watch.

Castiel turned to face him. “Yes, mostly. There’s a common belief in many mythologies that some places in the world are closer to the spirit world than others. It’s not exactly true anymore since humans have largely lost touch with the Earth and spirits, but there are places that still retain some of that feel. This is one of those places for me.” He made his way to the inlaid closet doors beside a small bathroom, and slid them open, pulling out two yukata, holding one out to Dean.

“So, this is your happy place?” Dean asked, intrigued as he took the cotton robe. “Never would have guessed.”

“I have many ‘happy places,’” Castiel said reasonably as he worked off his jacket and then his tie. “However, this is one of the few that I can share with someone else.” He seemed pleased at that, and Dean couldn’t help mirroring his answering smile. “Tourism and hot springs have made this area popular, but there are still truly relaxing places if you know where to look. This onsen has been here since the eighteenth century. The family who owns it bought up the land around it centuries ago, so that’s why there are no other hotels or shops on this side of the street. I believe it was designated as a World Heritage Site several decades ago to preserve its standing.”

Dean removed his street clothes and put on the yukata while Castiel talked, fiddling with the waist tie a bit before giving up and knotting it. Castiel passed him a heavier kimono jacket to layer up, and then the angel poured them both cups of tea. Dean flopped onto the floor pillow and accepted the warm drink as he finally tore his gaze away from the view and to his companion. “So, like, I couldn’t understand what you were saying to the lady at the front desk, but she obviously knew you. What’s the story there? You some kind of VIP?”

Castiel sipped his tea. “Her family’s been running this place for generations. I’ve done... work around here before.”

“Huh,” Dean said, leaning forward in interest. “What kind of work is there for an angel out here in Japan? They don’t exactly believe in Christianity, right?”

“There are pockets of Christianity, but most people here aren’t strictly religious. However, there are still supernatural occurrences and the like. Okami, kappa, others. Besides that, the proprietors and I have helped each other over the years.”

“Must have been some pretty impressive shit if you get a room any time you want one,” Dean answered, a little irritated at the purposeful vagueness of Castiel’s answer, though not enough to push.

Castiel smiled over the rim of his ceramic cup, breathing in the earthy steam from the green tea. “It’s the off season now. They weren’t fully booked.” Dean’s laugh made Castiel lean slightly forward against the table with a grin. “You should try the onsen out. It’s said that the water has healing properties.”

Dean glanced towards the balcony. “I don’t have a bathing suit.”

Castiel shook his head. “You’re meant to bathe in the nude.”

Dean’s eyebrows shot up. “Seriously? Are you bullshitting me?”

Castiel’s grin softened to an indulgent smile. “No, it’s the truth. Clothing, dirt, and hygiene products can contaminate the water and the natural balance of minerals.” He nodded his head back towards the bathroom. “You’re supposed to bathe thoroughly in the shower and then use the onsen. You can wrap yourself in one of the towels if you’re shy, but it’s much better to be fully nude. In my opinion.” He cleared his throat and put his mug down. “I can leave if you’re uncomfortable.”

Dean’s smile was slightly hesitant, but then he rolled his shoulders. “I’m not really self-conscious.”

The angel nodded. “Then I suggest you make use of it. You won’t regret it.”

Regret wasn’t exactly a thing for Dean at the moment. Nothing was a thing for him, now that he reflected on it. Ever since Castiel had been “helping” him, he’d mellowed to the plateau of laid back contentment. And he wasn’t about to complain. So he pushed up from the table and scooted around Cas towards the bathroom, lightly brushing the angel’s shoulder as he passed by. He shed the yukata and his boxers and wiggled his toes on the heated tiles on the bathroom floor. Nice. He washed quickly, but carefully, and then toweled off, securing the white terry cloth around his waist before padding back out into the main room, past Castiel and to the onsen on the balcony. He was acutely aware of the angel’s eyes following him the whole time.

Steam rose from the hot spring in foggy puffs. Dean slowly dipped his foot in. “ _Jesus_ fucking _Christ_!” he yelled, whipping his toes back out. “It’s fucking lava water!”

A low chuckle came from behind him. “The Japanese are used to hotter water than Westerners are accustomed to.”

Dean scowled at Cas. “Warn a guy next time.”

Castiel laughed again. “Just acclimate slowly. May I join you after bathing myself?”

“Yeah, sure,” Dean said distractedly, eyeing the water again with distrust, but giving it a go again.

By the time Castiel had bathed, Dean was seated in the water up to his chest, the towel soaked and wrapped around his shoulders to stave off the chill in the air. His head rested back against the smooth rock lip of the tub and his eyes were closed. Castiel stared at him for a moment, his laser focus allowing him to count how many of Dean’s eyelashes were coated in a thin layer of frost from the hot water hitting the cold air. He slid into the tub without so much as disturbing a ripple in the water. He sank down to his chin with a long sigh. He felt a hand on his arm under the water, and Dean tugged him closer without even opening his eyes.

Castiel pushed up and maneuvered himself into Dean’s lap. He spread his legs over Dean’s thighs and rested against him, back to chest. Though it was an intimate position, he wasn’t immediately aroused. He could smell Dean’s incubus scent, but it was muted by the clean water that smelled vaguely of sulfur from the natural hot spring that it was drawn up from. But that was tempered by the added herbs and natural minerals also present in it. Castiel let his head fall back against the curve of Dean’s neck while his eyes closed, too, lulled by the rise and fall of the hunter’s chest as he breathed.

Dean’s arms came around Castiel’s chest, hands pressed to the firm skin over his pecs. He gently, idly drew small patterns with his fingers and they calmed the angel as his muscles relaxed further.

If he’d thought that this place was paradise before, now it was closer to heaven. “It would be unwise to fall asleep here,” he murmured, cracking his eyes open just enough to watch the final washes of sunlight fade behind the horizon. Dean hummed his acknowledgement, continuing to stroke Castiel’s chest with his thumbs. Every gently downward sweep of his fingers inched his hands down a tiny bit further. Castiel basked in the touch, rejoiced in it, whimpering softly when Dean had reached low enough for the edge of his thumbnail to catch his nipple. Dean didn’t react to the sound, or maybe hadn’t heard it. He continued his lazy petting. The minutes stretched out long and fluid and Castiel tried his best to remain still. His blood was boiling as hot as the water on his skin by the time Dean had meandered down to his abs. In a fluid motion, he ceased his rhythmic caress in favor of digging his nails lightly into Castiel’s firm abs and scratching outwards.

Castiel cried out breathlessly and arched up, hips rutting once upwards. When he settled himself again, Dean’s hard length slid up between them, rubbing against the cleft of Castiel’s ass and over his lower back. This time, Dean moaned softly. He pressed several wet, open mouthed kisses to the nape of Castiel’s neck as his hands dipped further down, stroking the coarse short hairs nestled around his cock before taking him in hand and pumping him loosely in his fist. It was barely enough pressure to do anything, but the heat from the onsen made Castiel heady, nearly drunk and cloudy with lust. All of Dean’s movements were maddening and short and slow and Castiel answered them by flexing his thighs, barely moving as he fucked himself into Dean’s hands.

He never thought he’d be able to find his completion this way, but Dean was supplementing the languid movements with firm bites along the back of his neck and shoulders. The sharp stings of exquisite pain helped drive him closer and closer to the edge. Suddenly, Castiel shoved away from the hunter and stumbled to a standing position. Dean didn’t appear shocked or insulted. His eyes were half-lidded and a smirk touched his lips.

Castiel couldn’t stop himself from reaching down to palm his own length. He stroked it just as Dean had been doing a moment ago. “We can’t finish here,” he said, voice pinched. “It will dirty the water.”

Dean sat up straighter, fixing Castiel with a feral grin. “Then I guess you should come here and make sure I swallow down every last drop of you.”

With a moan that he almost didn’t recognize as coming from him, Castiel surged forward. Dean was ready for him. He caught the angel’s hips, steadying him, and without another thought, swallowed his dick down to the root, opening his throat. That was all it took. Castiel trembled and his muscles locked as he came down Dean’s throat. Dean soothed him through the aftershocks by stroking his hips and kneading his thighs. Once more Castiel felt that strange tug inside of him. His grace begging to brush its tendrils around the hunter. And he was helpless to stop it until he’d calmed down enough to pull back from Dean’s mouth.

When he opened his eyes again, he was nearly taken aback by the look on the other man’s face. Dean stood up with him, heedless of the cold air. His green eyes had a strange light to them as they locked on Castiel hungrily. His wolfish smile grew. “Cas,” he said, voice laced with sex and intent, “I want to stop the foreplay. It’s not enough.”

Castiel’s heart thudded behind his ribs. He felt twin thrills of anticipation and trepidation zing up his spine. He swallowed hard, but didn’t back away from Dean. “What do you mean?” he asked, proud that his voice remained quite steady.

Dean stood in front of him, steam rising from his body as it cooled in the night air. His breath - so, _so_ close - carried the heady scent of his musk. “I want to fuck you,” he said, raking his eyes over the angel’s body before locking onto his shocked blue gaze again and holding it, unblinking. His voice sounded strange. Not completely his. And his words sounded even stranger. “I _need_ to fuck you. Bury myself inside you. Join with you. Cas.” He caressed the angel’s skin with his silky voice and also with his clever hands. It nearly undid Castiel. His voice finally faded to a silky purr. “Will you help me? Will you let me?”

Dimly, Castiel became aware that Dean was using every power that the incubus poison imbued him with. He _knew_ that he was in Dean’s thrall. He _knew_ that it was dangerous to accept anything the incubus asked of him. He _knew_ that he could blink his eyes, break the spell, and bring Dean back from the brink. Castiel’s lips parted. “Yes,” he whispered. “Yes, Dean.” And he drew the hunter closer for a taste of his sweet, poisonous ambrosia.


	4. Chapter 04

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel makes a big mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, there's barely any editing here. Sorry about that, and thank you for your continued wonderful comments!

He hadn’t meant to say yes to Dean. Truly he hadn’t. He knew that the second the invitation left his lips, he wouldn’t be able to stop it. He wouldn’t want to fight it. Dean was as lost as Castiel was for the moment. Nothing else mattered but the wide open expanse of lust carving hot into the both of them. The curse felt secondary, or honestly, not important enough to even consider. Dean swept Castiel up into his arms and hauled them both out of the onsen. They crashed back into the room and Dean shoved the rice paper doors closed to keep out the chill. And when his lips covered Castiel’s, flooding his senses with the spicy pheromones, the angel knew that there could and would be no further protest from him.

This wasn’t need; this was want. It had stopped being about Dean, though Castiel couldn’t point to exactly when that had happened. But it was there and he lay prone on the bed, helpless to stop it. Not even desiring to do so. The desire had been there all along. He’d wanted it for so long, and was so used to the excuses, that it had come naturally to him to offer himself as the temporary solution to the problem. Angels shouldn’t be slaves to their desires - they shouldn’t have any at all - but being among the humans and learning from them... Castiel wondered more and more why they shouldn’t.

The feelings that Dean elicited in him as he stroked over his damp skin, kissing the paths that his hands followed, it didn’t feel like it was dirtying Castiel’s mind _or_ his body. It felt like a blessing. His mind reeled at all the sensations. His eyes fluttered shut, but he still sensed the moment that Dean took himself in hand. He felt the shift of his muscles as he repositioned himself. He couldn’t feel the movement of Dean’s arm as he stroked his own dick, but he smelled the burst of sweet-spicy pheromones that clogged the angel’s airway, leaving a hum of yearning throughout his entire body. Even his thoughts narrowed down to nothing except pure, focused intent on Dean, Dean, _Dean_. “Dean,” he moaned. Without knowing what he was doing, he raised his knees up and let his legs fall open, arching just enough so that his dick thrust against the hunter’s warm skin. It made goosebumps rise all over his body.

“You’re incredible, Cas,” Dean said in his strange, otherworldly voice. “Everything about you is _exactly_ what I want.”

Of course it was. _Of course_ it was. It was want. Wanting and wanting. Years of it. And it was so _heavy_. It pressed down so hard that he couldn’t fight against it. Shut off the part of his mind that said he should because he had for so long. It didn’t make sense to do anything but accept it. Especially when Dean shifted again, removing his hand from his own dick and giving Castiel’s a few light strokes.

“Open your eyes, Cas,” he said in his sex-and-gravel tone.

 _Of course, Dean_. Castiel’s eyes opened and found the endless green of the hunter’s heated gaze. He’d do anything this man asked of him.

Dean bent forward to kiss him and it was surprisingly chaste. A simple press of their lips which had grown cold from the air. Dean pulled back just enough so that he could see the angel better. “Can you reach my jeans?” he asked.

Castiel’s right arm immediately flopped off the futon towards Dean’s. He scrabbled around until he felt denim under his fingers, dragging it closer. Dean sat up and reached into the back pocket of his jeans. He came away with a single use packet of lube. He held it out to Castiel with a dangerous grin. “Want you to help me out with this part.”

Castiel took the packet dutifully and pushed himself up onto his elbows. “How?”

Dean held out his hand, palm up. “I want you to jack yourself off while I open you up. Can you do that for me?”

Castiel trembled at the command and Dean’s free hand that traced over his ribs, down to the jut of his hip with only two fingers, lightly scratching with his blunt nails. “Yes,” he answered, sounding hoarse. It took nearly all of his concentration to ignore Dean’s pawing over him, keeping the embers of desire stoked, to open the pack of lube without spilling it everywhere. It was clear, thick, sticky, unscented. Castiel took a moment to rub it between his fingers curiously, eyebrows raising when it warmed nicely in his hands. Dean’s smoky chuckle brought his focus back to the hunter as it shocked desire through his core. He held the packet over Dean’s hand and dribbled some into it. Dean slicked it over his fingers while Castiel squeezed his hand to coat his palm with the rest.

“Touch yourself,” Dean commanded.

Castiel complied immediately, unwilling to resist. He fisted his dick into his slicked hand, giving himself slow, warm strokes that shortly had small moans catching themselves in the back of his throat.

Dean’s eyes darkened and his grin widened as he watched Castiel jack himself. He slid his lubed finger carefully around Castiel’s hole and pushed a long finger in when a particularly low growl resonated from the angel’s chest. Castiel’s back bowed. He clenched his teeth tightly, panting at the invasion.

“Relax,” Dean said lowly. “I got you. Just relax.”

He tried. Desperately, he tried. But the movement inside him - he’d never felt anything like it before. All he wanted to do was clench tightly around Dean’s finger because it _wasn’t enough_. “Dean, please,” he gasped, opening his legs wider.

With another smoldering chuckle, Dean agreed, slipping another finger in. He pushed even deeper than before, brushing Castiel’s prostate and causing the angel to cry out in ecstasy. His hand fell away from his dick, searching out Dean’s shoulders to dig his fingers in, messy or not. Every fibre of his being begged Dean to move faster, harder, _fill_ him, but the hunter kept up his maddening pace for long minutes that drew out endlessly. Castiel was sweating and shaking by the time Dean withdrew his hands and left Castiel with a sense of true emptiness. His eyes tracked over Dean’s movements as he slicked up his own dick with the rest of the lube and looped his arms under Castiel’s bent legs, hauling him up into his lap. “I want to come inside you,” he breathed.

Castiel arched his back again, silently begging for it. “Yes, Dean,” he answered, voice almost completely gone.

Carefully, Dean guided his dick to Castiel’s hole and breached him with a gentle nudge. The care he was taking was wonderful and warmed Castiel’s heart, but the desperation clawed at him until he was nearly driven mad by it. He flexed his thighs, pushing his hips up. It forced Dean’s dick to bottom out much more quickly.

Dean gasped, rolling forward to rest his forehead against Castiel’s shoulder. “You feel amazing. So fucking tight.”

“Dean, please,” Castiel murmured against the crown of his head. “Please. I need you to... move, please. _Move_!”

Dean moved. And it was exquisite. The smell of his musk exploded in the room and Castiel drank it in with deep, heaving breaths. It filled every crevice of his body. Lit flame through his veins that was equal to the fireworks that exploded through his back every time Dean brushed against his prostate with his silky hard dick. He’d never imagined anything like this before. It got better and better with every second that passed. Castiel heaved himself up, overturning Dean onto his back. His hands slammed down onto the hunter’s chest as he maintained the quick pace of their hips, riding Dean hard. His shoulders tingled just before his wings exploded out with a hot gush of air. Dean stared, enraptured. He reached up and grabbed the radius on both his wings, stroking outward with his hands as far as he could reach.

The added intensity of the touch had Castiel throwing his head back, hips breaking rhythm, but more frantic. He could barely find his voice to cry out, though Dean seemed to know what was going on. He fingered down the long, inky black feathers between the joints with gentleness belying their current coupling. Castiel keened loudly in the back of his throat and came hard, his abdominals tensing almost painfully as he covered Dean’s stomach and chest in thick splashes of his release.

Dean cursed, yanking Castiel down for a wet, sloppy kiss a minute before he bit hard on the angel’s bottom lip as he came too, his body locking up before loosening again.

The feeling of Dean’s release inside him was almost like a second orgasm in and of itself. It was hot and tingled inside of him. The pulse came again and again. It was so intense that Castiel thought he might black out. Then Dean’s tongue thrust into his mouth, and Castiel felt the growing familiar pull of insistence from Dean’s soul. It shook his world so much, dragged the fog of afterglow so thickly through his brain that Castiel couldn’t hope to end it. He opened his mind, his heart. The very essence of his grace spilled between the link, and Dean’s soul sucked it in greedily.

It felt perfect. Amazing. Like all the planets and stars were coming apart and joining back together. He could _feel_ Dean’s desire. His pleasure. His fulfillment. It was a balm on Castiel’s being. Everything. He wanted it. Jealously hoarded the belief that it was _his_. He was the only one who could be this for Dean.

He didn’t register immediately that Dean’s pleased chanting of his name had begun to turn to panic. Castiel’s eyes slid closed. Why did he sound so worried? Everything felt beautiful. Like it should be. He was at peace.... _peace_. Dean had... brought him peace. Why did he sound so scared? A moment later, he didn’t even resist when he slipped to unconsciousness.

 

 

~ o ~ x ~ xoXox ~ x ~ o ~

 

 

“Cas?” Dean yelled, shaking the angel’s limp shoulders. “CAS! Wake up! What the hell, man!” In any other situation, he would have thought he’d just fucked him so well and thoroughly that he’d passed out. Worth a pat on the back, but not something to panic over. But Castiel only blacked out or slept for a few reasons, and none of them were good.

He slapped Castiel’s cheek. No response. Pinched the tender skin on the inside of his arm. Still nothing. He didn’t wake with cold water on his face, cursing at him, nothing. Finally, Dean jumped to his feet and dressed quickly in his street clothes, rubbing the fluids and lube off his hands and body with the discarded yukata. He ran from the room to the reception area. Luckily, the owner was there still, reviewing her ledger.

“Thank fuck,” Dean breathed, skidding to a stop at the desk and slumping his shoulders. “You know Castiel, right? I really need your help. He’s sick or something, and it’s really bad. Is there anything you can do? Call an ambulance or something? Anything? He’s not supposed to be able to get sick! Do you speak English? Fuck, I don’t know any Japanese!”

The woman stared at him with wide eyes.

Dean cursed again and tried to soften his tone. Clearly he was alarming the poor woman even if she didn’t understand a word that he was saying. “I need help,” he said as calmly as possible.

“Angels cannot get sick,” she said uncertainly.

“You speak English!” Dean said, relieved. “Thank God. Or... whoever. Can you please - wait, did you _know_? About Castiel?”

She nodded. “Of course. For many years now. I may be helpful here. Go to your room and make him warm. I will find you soon.” She moved from behind the desk to a curtained doorway and disappeared. Dean didn’t bother to question her or argue. There’d be time for that later. He dashed back to the stairs, to his room, leaving the door unlocked. He set to work tugging the futon cover out from underneath Castiel’s dead weight. Then he arranged it over his shoulders, trying his best to ignore how pale the unconscious angel looked.

He sat down cross legged beside Castiel’s pillow. Pushed the damp hair off of Castiel’s forehead. Sat silent vigil, but Castiel didn’t stir. After the first shock of panic, Dean realized quite suddenly that he wasn’t so anxious anymore. In the back of his mind he _remembered_ the anxiety he used to feel whenever Cas was down for the count. But right now? Nothing. Less and less raw emotion since becoming an incubus. Idly, he wondered if Sam had recognized the gaping nothingness of non-emotion when he’d lost his soul. No wonder he’d found it sort of appealing.

Shortly, he heard the room door open and the light swish of fabric across the tatami mats. The owner came into view carrying a first aid kit and several small folded packets.

“Do you really know what he is?” Dean demanded.

The woman’s smile remained demure. “I know what he says he is, and I believe him.”

“That’ll make things easier,” Dean grunted, lifting up the comforter to pull Castiel’s arms out.

“It is easier to help him if I know what _you_ are,” she said mildly.

Dean leaned back on his heels, studying the woman carefully. She certainly didn’t look like someone who was going to use any information against him, but he didn’t know her. Therefore he couldn’t trust her. Not enough, anyway. “I’m human,” he answered. “Who are you?”

“Togawa,” she answered simply. “Your energy... it is... different.”

“I’ve been through a lot,” Dean hedged. “Bunch of stuff you might not even believe.”

“I may,” she answered. “But I do not ask for secrets.” She gently slid her hand under Castiel’s neck to tip his chin up and slip a warm pack from the first aid kit underneath him. Dean glanced away to stop the flash of anger he felt at her hands on him. The woman was just trying to help. “Will you please make the tea now? Use these herbs.” She offered up one of the white packets.

“Yeah.” Dean stood up and walked over to the table and knelt down again. Huh. He’d been angry just then, but it felt... different. Not normal for him. More like a strange twist of possessiveness and jealousy. Something visceral in him that wanted to keep Castiel to himself. He didn’t even want to think about the meaning of that, though he’d have to research more about his... condition. Whether or not changing into an incubus could actually change _him_ until his humanity was just a shell that only ever felt anything when he let go and allowed the incubus to take over. Smart way to become the dominant brain, anyway.

He scowled and opened the small pack of herbs, put them into the ceramic pot, and added the hot water from the electric kettle. He scrunched his nose at the bitter, earthy smell and put the lid of the pot on quickly. “Smells awful.”

She chuckled. “Medicine is rare to taste good.”

“No kidding.”

“Let it rest for five minutes and then bring a cup over here,” she said.

Glancing at his watch, Dean said, “got it.” He slid to the ground on top of the pillow and crossed his legs, facing Mrs. Togawa as she arranged extra blankets on top of Castiel. “Thank you for helping,” he said softly.

She finished settling the angel and then rested onto her shins, folding her hands in her lap. “I will always help,” she said. “When I was small, my mother said to me that we should always honor the spirits native here and also the Angel of Thursday.”

Dean laughed a little, though the humor didn’t reach farther than the sound. “Cas actually does go out of his way sometimes.”

“Yes. My mother was Christian and Shinto, so she prayed at the temple here and at the church. She said to me that more gods would bring us more luck.”

Dean contemplated that with a smile. “She’s not wrong. Guess it worked out for you.” His gazed flicked over to the sleeping angel. “A lot of the angels say that their dad’s gone, though. Left all the kids home alone. Our prayers probably aren’t doing squat.”

Still, Mrs. Togawa smiled kindly. “The children still do good work.”

“Some of them,” Dean allowed. “That’s all that really matters, I suppose.”

She nodded and they fell into a comfortable silence again until the tea was ready. Dean poured the cup halfway full and brought it to her. Mrs. Togawa took it in both hands. “Help me with his head.”

Dean scooted his hands under Castiel’s shoulders and lifted him up into a half-sitting position, his head resting on the hunter’s shoulder. He was an absolute dead weight and didn’t make a sound when he was jostled. “Hope this works,” Dean said, voice heavier with anxiety than his heart was.

“Castiel would tell you to have faith,” Mrs. Togawa teased lightly as she blew on the tea to cool it a little before tipping it slowly against Castiel’s lips.

Dean turned his head towards Castiel’s temple, lips against the shell of his ear and murmured, “open your mouth, buddy. You gotta drink. It’ll help.” No response. “Come on, man. Sometimes angels need medicine just like everyone else. Don’t be an ass.” He nuzzled his nose against Castiel’s face. After a pause, the angel sighed and opened his mouth. Mrs. Togawa poured the liquid in drops at a time so that he didn’t choke. Dean heard Castiel swallow. Slowly at first, but then better. When the cup was empty, Mrs. Togawa smiled with satisfaction as Dean laid Castiel back onto the futon, fixing the covers around him again. Castiel coughed a little, shifted, then relaxed again.

Duty done, Mrs. Togawa stood and brushed the wrinkles out of her kimono. Dean stood with her and walked her to the door. “Thank you,” he said sincerely.

“It is no worry,” she said. “Give him more of the tea tonight. Let him rest as much as he can. If he is worse later, please call me.”

“I will. Take care.”

Mrs. Togawa excused herself with a bow, but paused before leaving. “Everything will be fine for him,” she assured him. “I make that tea because he gave my family the spell a long time ago. Sometimes when he helped here before, he would be tired. Just as now. He would sleep and listen to the ocean and drink the tea and he would be better.”

“That’s good to know,” Dean answered. Mrs. Togawa bowed again, and Dean mirrored her as best as he could, then shut the door behind her. He turned and leaned his back against it, sighing. “Cas, man,” he said more to himself than anyone else, “we gotta figure this shit out.” Castiel didn’t answer. Dean padded back over to the futon and sat down on his, propping his back up against the wall. He scrubbed at his face and made a frustrated noise. Castiel stirred a little, and he reached out and placed his hand on the angel’s forehead. Still feverish. He traced his fingers over Castiel’s brow ridge, across his temple, over the pronounced cheekbone, and down to his neck, leaving his hand to settle on the angel’s shoulder. The touched calmed the other man down quickly.

“I’m sorry, Cas,” Dean said meaningfully. “Man, I don’t know what happened. Something just... fuck, I dunno. It’s like I’m getting better, but I’m not at the same time. Physically, I’m good. Mentally? I need to be careful.” He drew his knees up and rested his forearms over them. With a light, humorous tone he wasn’t feeling, he said, “I know I said I’d die for you - and I _would_ , don’t get me wrong - but that doesn’t mean I want you to do the same for me.” He sighed and dropped his head to his arms. “Just get better. I hate this shit.”

Still, Castiel remained sleeping. Dean watched over him until the sky outside turned from black to gray. Only then did he pull the comforter over himself on the other futon and fall into a fitful sleep.

 

 

~ o ~ x ~ xoXox ~ x ~ o ~

 

When he woke, Castiel was already up and sitting at the table, sipping his tea and watching the ocean.

Dean waited for the rush of relief, but it never came. At least his voice remembered proper inflection and his face had the muscle memory to appear both happy and concerned. “Cas,” he said, “you’re all right? What the hell happened last night?”

Castiel turned his head to look at Dean. Large dark circles marred his eyes and he was still deathly pale. “I expended too much grace,” he answered wearily.

Dean pushed himself up onto his elbows and then to a sitting position. “How did that even happen?”

Castiel shifted a little and his dull blue gaze dropped to the floor. “It happened while we were copulating. You feed on my grace, Dean. It’s what’s been sustaining you. Last night I gave you too much.”

“Or I took too much,” Dean countered harshly. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

Castiel shrugged. It looked like even that much effort exhausted him. “Togawa-san just brought breakfast. You should eat while it’s still warm.”

The mention of food made Dean’s stomach grumble. He pushed himself onto his hands and knees and scooted over the scant few feet between the futons and the table. Everything was laid out in black lacquered dishes, arranged artfully on a tray. “Wow, what is all this?” Dean asked, picking up his chopsticks. “It smells amazing.”

“Broiled fish, rice, miso soup with clams, pickled lotus root with ginger, tamagoyaki, and a salad,” Castiel answered. “Togawa-san makes a wonderful traditional meal. Cooking is one of her favorite hobbies.”

Dean dug in with enthusiasm. It sure wasn’t the greasy diner breakfast he’d grown accustomed to, but it hit the spot. Let it never be said that Dean Winchester shied away from a home cooked meal, no matter how unfamiliar it was. He even ate the salad, enjoying the sesame and soy sauce dressing. After he was half-finished with his meal, he looked up and suddenly noticed there was only the one tray. “Nothing for you?”

Castiel shook his head, refilling his tea cup. “I don’t require food to recover. I only require time. The tea helps speed the process, however.”

“She said it was a spell,” Dean commented around a mouthful of rice and grilled fish.

“A mild one, but useful for restoring energy,” Castiel answered. “It is also safe for humans.”

Dean nodded and polished off the last of the meal. He stacked the dirty dishes on the tray and left it outside the door, as Castiel had instructed him to do. Then he came back to the table and sat across from Castiel. He spread his feet out under it, sliding up Castiel’s leg in the process and enjoying the small exhale of breath he got in return.

“What do we do now?” he asked. “We can’t stay here forever. Sam and them are gonna start to worry.”

“I believe that I will be able to transport us home this afternoon,” Castiel replied. “But after that, I will require much more rest to recover.”

Dean wasn’t fooled by his dismissive tone. Something was wrong about this. Before they’d even begun their agreement, Castiel had promised that he couldn’t be hurt by Dean. Clearly that wasn’t the case. But at least if he was going to rest for a while, Dean would have a chance to talk to Sam and Charlie about what was happening. Bobby might have a thought or two on the subject as well. It was worth shaking all the trees to see what might fall when they got back. Until then, though, he resolved to keep his hands to himself, withdrawal risk or not. It wasn’t worse than killing Castiel. That was the one thing he wouldn’t be able to do no matter how completely the incubus took hold. Never that. Never.


	5. Chapter 05

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Castiel return home. New problems arise.

After another few hours of rest while Dean channel surfed through various Japanese news programs and variety shows with interest until he found the daytime anime, Castiel finished his tea and took another soak in the onsen. Loathe to do anything else that might harm the angel, Dean showered alone and then redressed. Despite trying to keep the temptation at bay, he did join Castiel outside. The angel was sunk up to his neck in the hot water, head resting back against the lip of the tub. He still looked exhausted, but certainly better than he had only hours before. Some of the color had returned to his face, though that could have also been from the hot water.

Dean knelt down by the edge and couldn’t stop from running his hand through the angel’s damp hair. “You’re really okay? Be honest with me, Cas.”

“I’m fine,” he answered firmly, eyes closing at the touch. “Last night was... a revelation. And a learning experience.”

He couldn’t help the wry smile that tugged at the corner of his lips. “Sounds like a compliment.”

“It is.” Castiel opened his eyes and immediately met Dean’s upside down. Despite not feeling the emotion, Dean’s brain told him that he should be surprised by the sincerity that he found there. Impressed by it, too. At least he made the right facial expression, because Castiel smiled at him. “And we will figure the rest out when we are home.”

Dean cleared his throat. “We can wait another day, if we need to,” he said. “Mrs. Togawa told me that we could use her phone to make a short international call. Let everyone know we’re okay.”

“It would be best to call,” Castiel allowed, “but I will endeavor to get us back tonight.”

Dean patted his shoulder and stood, making his way back downstairs. Mrs. Togawa was in her usual place behind the front desk, checking in a pair of guests. Once they were done, she bowed to Dean and he found himself compelled to return the salutation. Huh. Guess he was getting used to the place after all. “Breakfast was awesome,” he said by way of greeting.

She smiled, her same professional, but warm, smile. “Thank you, Mr. Winchester. How is Castiel now? He was awake when I brought your meal.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “He’s getting there, y’know,” he answered. “Thanks for everything you’ve done. Can I make another request, though? I need to call my brother. He’s got no idea where we are.”

“Of course,” Mrs. Togawa answered. She reached under the desk and pulled up a corded phone. “There is no charge for the international call if it is below five minutes.” She lifted the receiver and punched in the country code before turning the base towards him and giving him the phone.

“It’ll only take a minute,” he assured her, dialing the number to the compound.

Sam picked up after five rings. “Hello?” he answered suspiciously.

“It’s me.”

He heard shuffling on the other end of the line and the scrape of what sounded like the phone being fumbled and recovered. Sam sounded much more awake when he spoke again. “Dean? What the hell happened? Where are you and Cas?”

“Japan.”

“What?! Japan? Why are you in Japan?”

“One of the ingredients we needed apparently only grows out here in Hokkaido.”

“Did you get it?”

“Yeah, we did.”

“Awesome.” There was a pause. “So... why aren’t you guys back yet?”

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose, not exactly sure how much he could - or should - reveal to his brother for the moment. “Cas ran low on mojo zapping us over here. It’s not a big deal. He said he’d be fine in a few more hours, so we’ll be back today.”

“Tomorrow, probably,” Sam corrected with a suspicious tone. “It’s almost seven here.”

“Whatever, you know what I mean. Look, I can’t talk long. I’m borrowing a phone right now. Just letting you know everything’s cool here and we’ll be on our way as soon as Cas can get us there.”

Another long pause where Dean suspected his brother was trying to project his best bitch face through the international airwaves. “I’ll tell Charlie,” he said finally, though it was clear by his tone that he wanted to ask a dozen more questions. “Thanks for calling.”

“Yeah, see ya soon.” Dean handed the receiver back to Mrs. Togawa. “Is it okay if we stay a little longer?” he asked. “I can go out and change some of my money.”

She waved a dismissive hand. “Castiel rarely comes to us,” she answered. “I told him many times that he is always welcome. He always comes in slow seasons. It is no trouble. You are welcome here. Your money is not.”

He appreciated it, but still. “We caused you a lot of trouble this time around.”

“I am glad I can help,” was all she answered.

“Thanks again,” Dean said, bowing stiffly, unsure of the protocol. The gesture was well-received, however. Then he returned to the room where he found Castiel sitting at the table again, dressed and sipping tea again as he watched the ocean. He looked quite natural that way.

“If we didn’t have a mission, I would ask to stay longer,” he said with an unreadable expression.

Dean sat down across from him and tried to see what Castiel saw when he stared at the water. It was definitely just shy of hypnotic. “Do you have places like this all over the world?”

Castiel tilted his head to the side in thought. “Yes,” he said. “I do, in many places.”

“Sometimes I forget,” Dean said, voice trailing off as if he wanted to say more.

Castiel turned his head to look at Dean’s profile, waiting for more of an explanation, but it didn’t come. “I’m sure I never told you about them,” he said.

The other man waved his hand out vaguely. “Not _this_. I mean, I forget sometimes that you’re actually almost older than time.”

Chuckling, Castiel said, “not quite, but yes. I do remember the time before humans. Before your ancestors.”

“Jesus,” Dean whispered.

“Him too,” Castiel deadpanned.

A small smile cracked Dean’s face. “But it took you this long to develop a sense of humor.”

Castiel turned his back to the table and flattened his palms out on the tatami mats, kicking his feet out towards the open balcony. “It’s beneficial, the more time I spend down on Earth. I love humans. I want to understand them more.”

“Seems sort of weird to me,” the hunter admitted. “I mean, angels might be a big bag of dicks on the whole, but all that life, all that power? What’s so fucking great about humans that would make you want to emulate us?”

Castiel didn’t answer for so long that Dean thought he wouldn’t. He kept his gaze on the ocean for long minutes, then said, “human beings are exceptional. They are some of the only lifeforms on this planet who are conscious of their deaths. They live aware of it at every moment. I can’t glorify the bad things that they do, but the good things are incredible. Angels, demons, other immortal beings... we don’t have the same sense of urgency that humans have. Your short lives make you passionate and resilient. While angels are simply complacent. Each human has their own mind. I want to have that, too.”

“I’d say that rebelling against Heaven is a good start,” Dean answered wryly.

Castiel smiled the same enigmatic smile and said nothing. Another comfortable silence fell until he said, “there are a few more items from Charlie’s list that we can procure at an herbalist’s shop near here. Can you go and get them by yourself? I would like to rest as much as I can before we travel.” He slid the list across the table towards Dean.

“Dunno, man, I don’t speak Japanese.” He picked up the paper and studied Castiel’s neat, blocky writing. The items were scrawled in both English and Japanese.

“The young man who runs the shop speaks English. Just give him the list and tell him that I need it.”

Dean hummed a little. “Do you know _everyone_ here?”

“Only in this neighborhood.”

Dean snorted. “All right. Where is this place?”

Castiel gestured outside towards the left. “Turn right when you exit the onsen, and it’s three doors down. Give him this for payment.” He reached to his trench coat and pulled out a small bottle with a clear liquid inside that seemed to sparkle even when out of direct light. He handed it to Dean, who didn’t even want to know what it was. It was cold to the touch. He pocketed the bottle in his jeans.

“I’ll be back soon. Anything else while I’m out?”

Castiel looked at him this time. “There’s no rush to get back for now. I believe you would be remiss to not talk a walk around and enjoy the seaside.” He said it like a recommendation, but his tone suggested that Dean would be a damn fool not to.

“Yeah, okay,” he muttered. “Be back later.”

 

 

~ o ~ x ~ xoXox ~ x ~ o ~

 

 

It was warmer than the day before. Still probably not too far above freezing, but the sun on his shoulders made Dean feel much more comfortable as he walked along the shoreline after procuring the herbs that Castiel had requested. There was hardly even a light breeze near the ocean, the water calm with only tiny lapping waves into the sand. Peaceful. There weren’t many tourists in the off season. Castiel had mentioned that the crowds wouldn’t be back until the ski resorts opened after the first few snows, but for now it was the in between time after the leaves had changed and dropped and before the first real dig of winter weather. Dean stuffed his hands further into his jeans pockets and figured he’d like to see this place when it snowed. He sat down in the sand where it was dry above the tide line and stared out at the blue water in front of him. Peaceful enough to let his mind completely blank out for the first time in ages. Not a single thought snared itself in his brain, and he was grateful to ignore all of them for a while. And after he started to lose track of the time, he thought for a moment that he could understand Castiel’s fascination with the view.

A warm hand on the nape of his neck nearly startled him, but his body recognized the shape and texture of the fingers against the short hair on the back of his neck before he could register a fully shocked response. “It’s time to go,” Castiel said. Goosebumps rose on the back of Dean’s neck.

“Yeah,” he said hoarsely. He climbed to his feet and brushed the sand off of his pants. “You sure?”

“I’m sure,” he answered, and in the next second, Dean blinked and found himself inside Castiel’s room in the bunker.

The angel stumbled and Dean caught him by the lapels of his trench coat. “Easy, man,” he said worriedly, guiding him in a controlled fall to the bed. Castiel went down onto his back gently with a long groan. “You said you’d be okay!” He was equally as shocked by Castiel’s relapse as he was by his own reaction. The constant emotional numbness was beginning to fade. His heart rate had picked up a little bit with the minuscule amount of anxiety arcing through him. If he’d been himself, he probably wouldn’t have even noticed the change it was so small. That, in and of it itself, worried him a little more, too.

Castiel coughed. He stretched back against the bed, face scrunching up as if it pained him. “I lied,” he answered.

“No shit. Dammit, Cas. We could have waited it out. Or had Charlie book us some plane tickets. You didn’t have to do this.” He undressed Castiel while he talked, and Castiel watched him silently the whole time. “There’s no point in you working yourself over like this until we’ve figured out how to get you better.” He unlaced the angel’s shoes and pulled them off. Removed the trench coat, loosened his tie, unbuttoned the top three buttons of his dress shirt, carefully avoiding touching more skin than he needed to. “It ain’t worth it.”

Castiel grabbed his wrist tightly. “Dean.”

Dean froze at the quiet intensity of his voice. But he couldn’t bring himself to look Castiel in the eyes. “What.”

“Dean, it’s worth it. I think it is. I’ve always believed that.”

Dean stood up straight, hands stuffed into the back pockets of his jeans. He felt a small, significant thrill of anger. “I’m tired of hearing shit like that from you. If you even _think_ of dying for me or doing something stupid, I’ll kick your ass.”

“Dean, I-”

“Forget it,” he snapped. “Don’t wanna hear it. Just stay here and rest. I’m gonna go find Sam, if he’s still up.” He made a show of stomping out of the room, but didn’t miss the way that Castiel huffed behind him. Dean wasn’t sure if it was a laugh or a sound of frustration, and he didn’t want to turn around to find out which it had been. He settled on closing the door firmly behind him.

He found his brother and Charlie pretty much where he’d left them, different clothes on them the only indication that they’d moved from their spots at all in the last couple of days. And they looked well-rested for it being after midnight now. Sam jumped up from the table and pushed away the thick tome he’d been flipping through when he spotted his brother. “You’re back! How’d it go?”

Dean reached into his pockets and pulled out the packets of herbs and fern clippings they’d acquired. “Pretty successful shopping trip. You can knock those off the list.”

“Where’s Cas?” Charlie asked.

Dean nodded over his shoulder. “Resting. Zapping us that far away wore him out a little.” Charlie’s face clouded with concern and she opened her mouth, but Dean cut her off. “He’ll be fine. He just needs to recharge. Tell me what we got.”

He didn’t miss the significant look between Charlie and Sam, but he dismissed it in favor of keeping them on track with their research. The sooner they figured this out, the sooner they could stop worrying about the accidental incubus and the exhausted angel in their midst.

Charlie turned back to her computer. “Well, we’ve got a lot, actually. Enough ingredients that we can start experimenting. I’m gonna compile some of the spells I’ve worked out and see what Castiel thinks about ‘em. Should be fine.”

“Should be?” Dean arched an eyebrow.

Sam spoke up. “From what we can find, none of these spells will backfire if we get them wrong. It’s not summoning or cursing or whatever; it’s _curing_. All the stuff we’ve researched says that it will either work, or it won’t. Meaning, you’ll either get better or stay the same. There’s nothing in the spells that’ll harm you if we don’t do them right.”

Dean crossed his arms over his chest. “You sure about that?”

Charlie shook her head. “Not exactly. That’s why we’re having Cas check them out first. When he’s better.”

“Got it. ‘Til then, I’m gonna go take a nap. I might have been brought here the angel way, but I still feel like I got jet lag or something.”

Waving him off, Sam said, “no worries. We’ll keep you posted.”

Seeing as how that was taken care of, Dean made his way back to the bedrooms. He paused briefly to glance into Castiel’s room, and found the angel sleeping. It was an unpleasant scene. He was tucked under the dark blue comforter, laying on his back, hands folded over his chest, fingers entwined. He would have looked human if he’d needed to breathe. As it was, he simply looked dead. Dean shut the door silently and went to his own room. Without undressing, he flopped onto his bed and closed his eyes. It was a long time before he was able to drift off to sleep.

 

 

~ o ~ x ~ xoXox ~ x ~ o ~

 

 

“Cas, hey, you’re up!” Sam sat up straighter in his chair, pushing away yet another book. He glanced at his watch. Nearly two in the morning. “Dean said you were having trouble transporting each other. You okay?”

“No,” Castiel said pointedly. He sat at the head of the table heavily. “I was mistaken about the safety of being Dean’s offering.”

Charlie choked on her coffee and Sam’s mouth fell open. Since Charlie was the first to recover, she coughed to clear her lungs and said, “I was right about you two? Boy sex, gross! But good on ya! But gross.”

“I’m sorry, I think I might be having a stroke,” Sam said incredulously. “I thought I just heard you say that you and Dean have been... no. Nope. Can’t even finish the sentence.” He scrubbed his face vigorously and into his shaggy hair, as if trying to rub the mental image out. “I have so many questions that I desperately don’t want to ask.”

Charlie raised her hand. “I’ll ask ‘em? It’s all good.”

Sam leaned back into his chair so hard that it tipped onto its two back legs before crashing down again. “What the hell’s going on, Cas? And please leave out any details about you and Dean... doing things that poison brothers to think about.”

“Very well,” Castiel answered seriously, folding his hands on the top of the table, leaning forward.

Charlie mirrored his movement, enthralled, and Sam sat back as far as he could, crossing his arms over his chest as if trying to get as far away as he could from the conversation. “Ignore Sam, and tell us what’s going on, Cas,” Charlie said helpfully. “The more you know, right?”

Castiel nodded, staring down at his hands. If she didn’t know any better, Charlie would have thought that the angel was embarrassed. “It began the night you arrived, Charlie,” he said softly. “We spoke about how to best help Dean and how his condition had been deteriorating rapidly. I was understandably concerned. Therefore, I approached him and said that I would become his offering. Just enough to keep his withdrawal symptoms at bay. Until we could find a real solution to his problem. He accepted.”

Sam’s hand shot out in a stopping motion. “Spare us the details, please.”

Castiel tilted his head slightly. “Of course. I  realize that humans view sexual activity as a private affair in most cases.”

“Thank you,” Sam said with a grimace.

Charlie pursed her lips. “Okay, so, how many times have you guys... _you_ know?”

“Once a day since then.”

“And is it working? I mean, Dean seems to be a lot better right now.”

“He is, but I’m afraid he’s also losing himself.”

That caused Sam to bend forward and rest his forearms on the table like the other two. “What do you mean by that?”

Castiel spread his hands out on the table in a helpless gesture. “I am afraid that he is starting to enjoy being an incubus. Or, at least starting to lose his humanity to it. I’ve been watching him. Each time that he accepts my offering, it appears to numb his human feelings and emotions. Some of that is to be expected, naturally, but he’s also been attempting to take more and more of my grace when he feeds.”

Both Charlie and Sam leveled the angel with mirroring expressions of alarm. Charlie was the first to recover enough to speak. “So, I mean... um... does that like... uh... can you stop him from doing that? Taking too much?”

Castiel huffed through his nose, gaze dropping to the table. “In theory, yes. Anyone can stop an incubus or a succubus from taking too much of their essence if they are able to fight hard enough.” He shifted in his seat. He wasn’t proud of his weakness. He _should_ be able to stop Dean. He _should_ be able to resist when necessary. If it was anyone else, he might have. “I am unable to withstand the draw,” he admitted in a soft voice. “I thought that I could, but every time, I... I let him, regardless of the consequences to him or me.”

Charlie made a tiny noise of shock and distress and looked over at Sam, who was looking at Castiel like he was giving him indigestion. “That’s why you couldn’t get back here for almost a whole day,” he said flatly.

“Yes.”

“Cas... Dean’s killing you and he doesn’t even know it.”

“He cannot kill me. I’m an angel,” Castiel pointed out as if uncertain as to how his human friends could have forgotten such an important detail.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Right, yeah, that’s true, but he’s definitely weakening you somehow.”

“He’s feeding off of my grace. The essence of my energy and my power.”

Charlie looked between the men then focused on Castiel. “How does grace work, then? Do you get more? Does it like, replenish or something? Dean can’t take it _all_ can he?”

Castiel pondered the question seriously for a moment while Charlie and Sam watched him closely, hanging on every last shift of his expression. “I don’t know if he can,” he admitted finally. “My situation is unheard of. I’m sure that most angels would never think to do something like this. It is possible that he could drain me too much. And it is possible to lose it. Though, angels rarely expend it directly, even when utilizing our powers. Sometimes it is necessary to use it in order to heal our own wounds. Sometimes a bit is lost when we are injured with angel blades. Other than that, our grace stays intact.”

Charlie raised her hand tentatively again. “What happens if he manages to drain all your grace? Theoretically?”

“It would be gone forever,” Castiel said. “I suppose that I would become a human, if it didn’t outright kill me. Without angelic grace, angels are at the mercy of their vessels, the same as humans.”

Sam stood up. “Okay, this needs to stop, then. I appreciate what you’re doing, Cas, but it’s mission critical now. It shouldn’t be long before we have some spells to work with, so let’s just... keep the two of you apart for now, okay? There’s too much risk to you. And to Dean, too.”

Charlie nodded in agreement. Castiel said, “very well. In that case, it would be best if there was some level of supervision while Dean and I are in proximity of each other.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right about that,” Sam said. “Guess we have a plan. Sort of. Let me go talk to Dean. Thanks for telling us all this, Cas.”

“Of course, Sam,” Castiel answered.

Sam gave them his most reassuring smile and then left to speak to his brother in his room. Charlie sighed noisily and turned back to her computer, peeking glances at the angel every now and then. Castiel sat silently, ponderous. Charlie cleared her throat. “It’s gonna be fine. Something here is gonna work to cure Dean, and we’ll all live happily ever after. I mean, if there is such a thing.”

Castiel’s responding smile was strained. “Thank you, Charlie.”

“For the record, I think what you’re doing for Dean is amazing. And Sam does, too. It’s a whole lot of sacrifice on your part, but it’s not a bad thing. It’s not like we disapprove on moral grounds or anything. Sam’s just worried about his brother.”

Castiel turned his gaze directly to her, eyes wide and sincere. “I would never do anything to hurt Dean that way.”

“No, of course not!” she said quickly. “I’m not talking about that. I think Sam’s more worried about Dean hurting _you_. Emotional unavailability and all that.”

Castiel didn’t have an immediate answer for her, but once he’d found the words, he discovered that he didn’t really want to say them. Dean wasn’t like that at all. Not to him. The things that he said and the things that he did were usually quite different. Castiel had touched Dean’s soul and basked in it the same way that the other man had felt his grace and drank from it. There weren’t any secrets to be had in the depths of a soul. Of course, Castiel had tried his best not to delve further than he’d had to. But, it had been pleasing to find that Dean didn’t carry his love deep. It had shimmered right there on the surface. Saying that to Charlie seemed like overstepping his bounds, so he settled on saying, “it doesn’t matter. I’ll always be there for him.”

She beamed. “You’re awesome, Cas. For realsies. Anyway, I’m done here for the night. Just leaving the program to do its thing. I should probably get some sleep if we’re planning on testing some of these spells tomorrow.”

Castiel stood with her and walked back towards the dorms. They wished each other goodnight, and Castiel closed his door behind him. After a moment, he locked it as well, just in case. He wasn’t positive that Dean wouldn’t seek him out during the night. And he was even less certain that he’d be able to reject the hunter, should the nearly-inevitable arise.

But it didn’t. Castiel spent the night in his room, watching the door and the clock, his mind swimming with the events of the past week. He tried not to dwell on what Charlie had told him, but the circle of thoughts just seemed to end up there over and over. For the first several hours that he stared at the clock, he tried to convince himself that she had been literal. Everyone was worried that Dean would hurt him physically. However, as the bright red digital numbers counted down towards dawn, his exhausted stream of conscience and questions narrowed down to the real meaning. Sam was more worried than before about an _emotional_ connection. And it wasn’t much of a stretch for Castiel to admit that he was worried, too.

All of those thoughts were shoved aside when, just after nine in the morning, Sam pounded on his door frantically. Castiel unlocked it and opened it to find the younger Winchester disheveled and still in his t-shirt and boxers. “Sam?”

“It’s Dean,” Sam said without preamble. “He’s gone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, everyone who is sticking with this story and commenting and showing support! It means so much to me!


	6. Chapter 06

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is gone. Sam, Charlie, and Castiel make the mistake of tracking him down.

_What the hell is going on?_ What the hell was going on? Vaguely, Dean heard shouting, but he couldn’t make out the voices or the words. It was all so... _fuck_. He grabbed his head in agony and was only partially conscious of his knees hitting cold concrete with a shock of pain. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly against the roaring noise in his head. It hurt. _Hurt_. Unimaginable fire scorched through his veins like seeping lava and didn’t let up. The agony was so terrible he wasn’t sure if he was awake or in some horrific nightmare. And the memories... _were_ they memories? Kept flooding him overwhelmingly.

He remembered Castiel speaking with Sam and Charlie after they’d returned. He’d heard Castiel talking about his grace diminishing, and then... fuck, what then? Something had happened. He knew he couldn’t keep doing what he’d been doing. Castiel had been so certain of his control, but knowing that he’d hurt him, no matter how little? It had been a rude awakening. Then what?

Cold. He’d been cold. Right. He’d left. Needed to get away. But not in the Impala. They’d have tracked it too easily. So, he’d walked to the main road. Held out his thumb and hitched a ride towards Sioux Falls. He’d been dropped off well before he’d have no excuse but to turn to Bobby. Then... _Jesus_ , it was hard to think. Burning. Everything burning inside of him.

 _Think, Dean, think._ Right. Hungry. That hunger edged with craving. Food helped a little bit, but not enough. He’d found a bar. Some hipster joint with overpriced mixed drinks and dark, stained wood all along the perimeter. Low-wattage light bulbs screwed into stained glass fixtures over every table that colored the shiny surfaces in blues and oranges and reds. He’d hated the place immediately, but his brand was on tap and the place was crowded. The wavering masses undulated against his senses, perking up the incubus.

He’d sunk into a booth near the kitchen in the corner and closed his eyes. Took in the sounds and the smells. It was amazing what the incubus poison could do. With a deep breath and some concentration, he made out that there were more women than men in the bar by nearly half. By wandering close to people he could assess their level of drunkenness by the scent of their sweat. And there had been that one man.... After several shots of whiskey on an empty stomach, Dean had wobbled slightly out of the booth to use the restroom and nearly collided with a surprisingly sober man. He smelled like he’d had a drink or two, but nothing to put him truly over the edge. And he smelled of something that hinted at the familiar. Fingers of heat coiled in his belly.

“Sorry,” Sober Man said. His voice was husky and low. Dean glanced up and soaked in the dark suit, light blue tie, blue eyes, dark hair. Slightly longer than Dean preferred, but he could work with it. His vision tunneled to narrow on the man’s face. His lips parted. He didn’t even know what he said. But it was enough for him to catch the second the man’s eyes dilated. He shifted slightly against the edge of the booth. In that moment, Dean knew he had it. The poison pulsed through his veins. It didn’t burn. It made him heady. High. He took a step closer to the man.

“Wanna get out of here?”

The man nodded, mouth hanging open. He was hard in his trousers, panting. Unknowingly drawing in Dean’s poisoned pheromones. Frozen to the spot.

Dean grinned. He nodded over his shoulder. “Come on. Follow me.” In some distant part of his mind, he recognized his incubus voice. The low drawl he used to reserve for dark rooms and making sure his one night stands would leave with a pleasant memory or two. Maybe even learn to call him “the one that got away.” It was that with an added twist he couldn’t quite place. A certain timbre he was positive that he couldn’t replicate when he was in his right mind. But that didn’t matter because that wasn’t _now_. The ache had started earlier in the day under his fingernails. Tingling over his hands, up his arms. The desire to touch. Feel. He’d run his fingers over the textures of the cheap motel bedspread he’d abandoned for the miasma in the bar. Then his worn jeans. Flannel shirt. It hadn’t felt right. Nothing felt right. As the day wore on and the ache grew deeper into his bones, throbbing in time with his heart, he’d recognized it. _Skin_. He wanted - _needed_ \- to touch bare, warm, smooth, sweaty, flushed skin.

And fucked if Sober Man hadn’t been doing it for him. Pressed up against the passenger door of his unassuming hybrid car, making all the right filthy noises against Dean’s throat. Dean reveled in it. He pushed his hands under the dress shirt, palms heavy on the man’s chest, and it was so _fucking_... wrong. _Wrong_. Not the right texture. _Wrong_. Not the right temperature. _Wrong_. Not the right smell. _Wrong_. His entire soul screamed and he nearly doubled over with a sudden burst of vertigo. He pushed himself back and grabbed the man by the lapels of his wrinkled suit jacket. “You’re wrong,” he’d growled. He shoved the man away and almost skinned his knees falling before he’d leaped to his feet again to run away. He’d hot wired a car in the motel’s parking lot and peeled out towards the highway at an unwise speed.

Then... then what? He’d thought about Cas, but that wasn’t news. He’d done _that_ since the very beginning, whether he knew it or not. The hum under his skin felt frustrated. Angry. He’d touched the wrong flesh. Propositioned the wrong man. Done all the wrong things. Nearly killed Cas. Fuck. _Fuck_! He slammed his hands on the steering wheel, continuing on blindly down the poorly lit back roads until he rediscovered the highway by sheer accident. He’d taken the exit without even bothering to check the direction and driven until the stolen car stalled hours later, out of gas. He didn’t know where he was. Didn’t care. He was away from Cas, and that was all that mattered. Every mile further away. It was important. He couldn’t do this. He’d go crazy. His mind was already a mess. There was no way to stop it. He craved and craved, and it had been easier before because there’d been no relief. He hadn’t known what he’d wanted. Hadn’t had so much as a taste. But then _Cas_ had been there and been perfect and stupid and self-sacrificing, and Dean could take when he wanted to. He was nothing if not good at taking what he wanted. So he’d taken Cas. And it had been a revelation. And now... he couldn’t live with and couldn’t live without. He wasn’t sure whether the incubus wanted it or whether Dean did.

So he had pulled one of his burner cell phones out of his pocket and called the only person he knew within a hundred miles of where he’d stalled. “Bobby,” he said. “I need a favor. It’s a big one.”

 

 

~ o ~ x ~ xoXox ~ x ~ o ~

 

 

Castiel started by counting the minutes, even though he knew it was ambitious. Sam was usually fast at tracking his brother’s movements. But then he had to count the hours. Then the days. Three days. 72 hours. 4,320 minutes. 259,200 seconds. Too many, when put like that. “Charlie,” he implored wearily.

“I _know_ ,” she griped. “We’re doing the best we can, but Dean knows how to stay off the grid. No cards, no security cameras, no Impala, no nothing. And since he’s flying below the radar, he’s beyond my skill level to track. I’m not really a ‘beat the pavement’ kinda girl. Don’t worry. If he does slip up, I’ll see it.”

“You are doing your best, I’m sorry,” Castiel said regretfully. “It’s just...”

“Yeah,” she said, pushing her laptop a little to the side to see Castiel better. “We’re all concerned. You need to take care of yourself, though. You still don’t look so hot.”

Castiel shrugged one stiff shoulder. She wasn’t wrong. The withdrawal symptoms were starting to manifest for him now. Not having Dean around with his scent and skin... physically it was starting to hurt. Today, his newest symptom was the inability to get warm. He had borrowed a long sleeved black shirt, black sweat pants, and thick gray hoodie from Dean’s room, and had also added his own comforter to wrap up in. Still, the chills wracked his body from time to time no matter how much he turned the heat up in his room or how many layers he piled on. “I will recover. I’m more worried about Dean.” Surreptitiously he sniffed at the hoodie to take in the trace scent of Dean left on it.

“His symptoms must be ten times worse than yours,” Charlie said. “Which means he’s probably laying low somewhere. He’ll be easier to find if he’s staying in one place.”

Castiel pursed his lips as he shuffled to the kitchen to make coffee, more for the warmth than the taste, but Charlie and Sam also agreed that the way he made it was somehow better than either of their brews. Once the coffeemaker was set, he wandered back into the main room and sat next to Charlie. “If Dean’s symptoms persist, he may not be able to fight them on his own. It’s the reason that I offered to help him in the first place.”

Her hazel eyes widened. “You think... no way.” She shook her head. “He couldn’t have gone out to find someone else? Do you think? No way.”

“Why else would he just _leave_ like that?” Castiel demanded, frustration evident in his voice. “What I said before is still true. Whether or not we want to accept it, Dean is becoming less human and more incubus every time he takes an offering from me. He may not _wish_ to fight it anymore. If that’s true, there would be nothing holding him back from finding someone else.” His entire body ached with the admission, true or not. He thought he’d been enough. He thought they’d had an understanding. He thought that Dean wanted _him_. He clutched the blanket tighter to his chest, rubbing at his sternum as if that might relieve some of the pressure. Selfish anger coursed through him. Part of him hoped that they found Dean soon just so that he could tell the stubborn man _exactly_ why he was doing all of this. He’d moved Heaven and Earth for Dean Winchester; rebelled against his brothers and sisters - his _father_. Bled for him, died for him, been to Hell and back for him. What in the world did Dean think that all of it _meant_? He slumped forward in the chair and thunked his forehead down onto the table. There was nothing that he could imagine denying the elder Winchester. He could have everything if it meant anything. His life, blood, grace, body, all of it. He already did.

A warm hand touched the back of his neck gently. “It’s okay, Cas,” Charlie said softly. “We’ll find him. We always do.”

The door opened above them and Castiel brought his head up to squint towards the balcony. He slumped again when he saw Sam returning without his brother in tow. He felt sympathy towards the younger Winchester, who wore his emotions much more prominent than his brother. Sam looked like he’d been through the wringer. Dark circles bruised his eyes, he’d let his stubble go unshaved for a few days, and his feet dragged a little as he came down the stairs to join them. “No go,” he said unnecessarily. “Looks like Dean really went to ground this time and doesn’t want to be found. I’ve checked everywhere I could think of.” He pulled his cell phone out of his jacket pocket and tossed it onto the table. “I’ve called nearly everyone we’ve ever had contact with. No one’s heard anything.”

Castiel stood and dragged himself back to the kitchen to make them all fresh cups of coffee. Sam accepted his gratefully, taking a long swallow and ignoring the burning heat. Castiel wrapped both hands around his own mug, the warmth soothing away the persistent ache in his fingers. “I’m sorry that I don’t have enough power at the moment to help track him.”

Sam shook his head. “It’s not your fault, Cas. You’re feeling the separation, too. Plus, he probably warded wherever he is so you wouldn’t be able to find him, anyway.” He sighed, took another sip of his coffee, then turned his attention to Charlie. “Seen any signs of incubus activity anywhere?”

Charlie turned the laptop towards Sam and said, “no, but I hope we don’t. Unless he hopped a plane to some other country, he’s not out doing anything incubus-y that I’ve been able to find.”

“Small miracles,” Sam answered wearily. Then he muttered, “dammit, Dean.”

Castiel voiced the question that had been haunting him since Dean’s disappearance. “Why did he do this?”

Sam knuckled his eyes. “My best guess is that he heard us talking about you, Cas. If there’s one thing Dean is good at, it’s running away when he thinks he’s hurting someone.”

He’d figured as much, but the confirmation still stung. “It was foolish,” he said severely. “He could have stayed. We could have avoided one another. He knew how close Charlie was to some completed spells.”

“You said yourself he wasn’t thinking straight,” Charlie pointed out. “He was just reacting. Sure, it wasn’t smart, but what else would he have done? He’s never really been all that great at waiting.”

“True enough,” Sam said. “Regardless, we have to be ready when we find him. How are those spells working?”

This time, Charlie smiled. “Cas and I have narrowed down three potential spells. They’re sort of cobbled together, so they might not work. They look promising, though.”

“That’s good enough for me,” Sam answered. “In the meantime, let’s-” he was cut off by his cell phone suddenly vibrating on the table. All eyes locked onto it as Sam snapped it up and swiped the call button. “Bobby?” he said, turning it on speaker.

“You wanna tell me what the hell is going on with you boys _this_ time?” he demanded.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’ve got your damn fool brother locked in my basement and it looks like he’s gone twelve rounds with Death.”

Sam couldn’t keep the mild hysteria out of his voice when he said, “Dean’s with you? Where’d you find him?”

“I didn’t,” Bobby said drily. “He found me. Stumbled in here a few hours ago messed up and babbling a bunch of nonsense. I locked him up, just in case. What happened? One of your cures go wrong, or something?”

“No, nothing like that. He’s probably deep in withdrawal. Kind of a long story, but we can fix him. We have some spells. Just... Bobby, don’t let him out of your sight, okay? We’ll be there soon.”

“Better be,” Bobby warned. “He ain’t got a lot of fight left in him, if you know what I mean.”

“I do. Thanks, Bobby.” He disconnected the call and the three of them sprang into action immediately, collecting clothes, spell components, laptops, weapons, and phones. They were out the door and piling into the Impala within minutes.

 

 

~ o ~ x ~ xoXox ~ x ~ o ~

 

 

Castiel jumped out of the car before it had fully come to a stop in front of Bobby’s house, bounding up the porch stairs to the front door, raising his hand to knock. Bobby beat him to it, flinging the door open and looking unusually harried.

Castiel paused and stumbled back a step. “Is he-”

“Yeah,” Bobby answered. “Be ready. It’s bad.”

The angel barely heard him as he ran past to the basement and pounded on the large metal door to the panic room. “Dean!” he called. “Dean, answer me!” No sound came from within. He didn’t know what condition he’d find the hunter in, and a part of his rational mind warned him that he should probably get the details from Bobby first, but it was _Dean_ in there, and he _needed_ Castiel. They’d been apart for _too damn long_.

Before his fingers could close around the locking mechanism, a hand on his arm jerked him back. Castiel swung around to find himself glaring at Bobby. The older man shook his head pointedly. “If you’d let me finish, you’d know we gotta talk before you go in there all half-cocked, pardon the pun. Don’t worry about Dean. He’s sleeping it off right now.”

Legs like lead, Castiel turned from the door, every part of his body protesting the movement away. Bobby took note as well, adjusting his grip tighter. “Cas.”

The angel didn’t miss the sharpness in Bobby’s tone. “I understand,” he said, voice twisted with conflict. “Forgive me. It’s difficult.”

“I get that,” Bobby assured him, tugging him back up the stairs. “Trust me, I do. Dean was a wreck when he got here. Nothing I could really do but knock him out until the rest of you got here.”

“Probably wise,” Castiel agreed at length, joining Sam and Charlie in the library. “We can build the spell here with the necessary wards.” He glanced over at Bobby. “I’m sure that you have many of the reagents we might require if we run out of our stock.”

Bobby crossed his arms over his chest, nodding shortly. “‘Course, I do. But I ain’t doing nothing until I’m convinced we ain’t gonna make it all worse.”

Sam jumped in to explain that the spells were purely of the cleansing variety. That they couldn’t hurt Dean, and would only fail to do anything, at worst. He handed the research over and Bobby studied the papers critically. He read them over twice until he understood them completely. “Says here we need a full moon. That’s tomorrow night.”

“Plenty of time to get it set up,” Charlie confirmed. “So, what do you think?”

Bobby huffed and handed the papers back to Sam before turning around to get them all a round of beers. Once handed out, and the small group folded into chairs around the small room, he said, “I think you did your research as best you could.” He tipped his beer back to take a long swallow. “Your fancy computer program is kinda impressive. Still. We don’t know what the hell this spell is _actually_ gonna do, and it ain’t like we wanna deal with a witch to get the details. So I say we ward this place better than it’s ever been and get it all over with. Cas, you sure this thing’ll work?”

“I can’t say for certain,” Castiel admitted. “However, the base of the spell is just as Sam said; a typical cleansing spell. Nothing in the composition should harm Dean or whoever casts the spell. We won’t _really_ know until we try.”

“‘Least you’re being honest,” Bobby muttered. “Fine. I got all the supplies. Let’s get to warding.”

Despite the extra preparations, Castiel reminded them that the nature of a low level spell such as the one they were performing would hardly draw attention from any unsavory guests. Cleansing spells were common, practically mundane. So much so that hardly anyone with any magical inclination at all would even feel a twinge from it. That eased Sam’s mind to some degree, but Bobby still insisted on the heightened warding against at least the usual suspects who tended to hunt the team as often as the team hunted them. Castiel couldn’t argue with _that_.

And by the time the sun had fully set, they were safe and completely secure in the small house. Dinner was a subdued affair, consisting of cold cut sandwiches and another beer apiece. No one complained, or said much of anything for that matter. Not long after, everyone seemed to be of the same mind to turn in early. They were all similarly weary from stress and anxiety. Charlie gave in first, picking up her overnight bag and walking up to the second floor with a small wave goodnight over her shoulder. Sam followed soon after, taking up the couch. Bobby patted Castiel’s shoulder with a comforting squeeze before moving off to his room. The angel sat down at the kitchen table in the dark, listening to Sam’s breathing even out as he fell more deeply asleep than he’d probably been able to in weeks.

Castiel stood. Looked around to make sure that he wasn’t about to wake Sam up. Quietly, he opened the door to the basement and descended the stairs, extra careful on the creaky ones. Before he knew it, he stood in front of the large bulkhead door. He pressed his palm to the cold metal. “Dean,” he murmured.

“Cas,” a voice answered and Castiel’s heart plummeted. The single syllable by itself was enough to tell the angel that Dean was in a bad way. “Cas, you’re here?” Hope and despair and pain and longing filtered through the wall to plunge directly into Castiel’s heart.

“Yes,” he answered. “I came as soon as Bobby called. Why did you run away?”

Rustling came from behind the door. When Dean spoke next, he sounded closer to the viewing slot. He must have been sitting against the door waiting for someone to come down to talk to him. “Cas...” his voice sounded truly wrecked. Hoarse and slurred. Castiel pressed himself closer. “I couldn’t... I can’t... _fuck_ , man, I was _killing_ you.”

He knew what Dean was trying to do. He was trying as hard as he could to stop hurting him. Which would have been easier if it hurt at all. But it hadn’t. Not for a second. It hurt _now_. Being away from Dean made his heart ache. And being unable to satiate their mutual desires made his body ache. There was nothing for it, so he said, “you know you can’t kill me. And you didn’t take anything that I was unwilling to give from the very beginning.”

“Please don’t,” Dean said, muffled voice strangled. “How I am now... you know I won’t be able to stop. I can’t help it. At least this way I can feel again. I was losing myself. I knew it and I didn’t stop it. Don’t think I could. It wasn’t _me_ with you, Cas. _It wasn’t me_.”

“I know that,” Castiel answered calmly, hand moving to the locking mechanism.

More shifting behind the door. “I hated that. Don’t you get it, Cas? You really don’t?”

The handle barely creaked as Castiel turned it. “Explain it to me.” His heart hammered behind his ribs. Hoping. Always hoping. He hoped Dean would say what he’d been longing to hear for years.

“I thought I could.” Dean’s voice scratched. He cleared his throat. Coughed. “But I can’t anymore. I don’t want it if it’s not _me_. Cas, do you get it?”

Castiel tugged on the lock and the door opened slowly. He stepped around it and found himself a foot away from Dean. He both thrilled and hurt at what he saw. Now that Dean had tasted what it was like to have an offering, the withdrawal was even more pronounced. His skin was pale and clammy. His eyes were dull and sunken with dark circles painted underneath. His hair was lank and crusty with sweat. He smelled sour, a mix of his own unwashed state, and the incubus pheromones turning bad. But he looked more like _Dean_ and less like the being that had poisoned him. His vulnerable, haunted stare never wavered from Castiel, though he visibly shook with full body tremors. When Castiel reached out to him, he made an effort to shrink back, but his weak legs failed to coordinate and he tipped backwards. In a swift movement, Castiel swept the hunter into his arms, pressing their chests together and brought them both down carefully to the concrete floor. Something that sounded like a bitten off sob broke in Dean’s throat. “Cas, please,” he whispered. “It hurts. So fucking bad. I want it to be me, and it’s not, and it fucking _hurts_.”

Wordlessly, Castiel cupped Dean’s cheek, thumbing over the substantial stubble. “We have three spells to try. One of them will work, I am confident. Tomorrow night under the full moon, you’ll be saved.”

“What does that even mean?” Dean huffed weakly, leaning heavily against Castiel’s chest, his feverish breath hot against the angel’s exposed collarbone. It made them both tremble more. “What does it mean for you?”

“For us?” Castiel corrected gently.

“Don’t wanna ask that,” Dean muttered, rubbing his forehead against the soft cotton of Castiel’s hoodie. It both pricked his skin painfully and soothed him despite it.

“You can,” he urged, even softer.

The pause was long, full of nothing but the sound of the old pipes banging in the walls and Dean’s labored breathing as he tried to draw in the cold damp air without it feeling like a hundred knives stabbing into his lungs. Castiel waited as patiently as ever. He stroked Dean’s hair, down the back of his neck, and every small, tender touch calmed them both. Finally Dean said almost sleepily against his skin, “what does it mean for us?”

Castiel pulled back just enough to meet Dean’s eyes to show the earnest longing there. No chance for misunderstanding, no matter the reaction. “Dean Winchester, I’ve wanted you from the very first,” he said boldly. “You told me before that you couldn’t stand the thought of me dying for you again, and you never need to worry about that, because I won’t. I can’t. Not anymore. I refuse to leave you. You won’t kill me because I won’t die for you. I won’t leave you.”

Dean raised up on his knees, their faces only an inch apart. After a tiny, gulped breath, he closed the last of the distance between them, pressing his dry, cold lips against Castiel’s. The spicy pheromones coursed straight through Castiel and he whined, faint and hungry in his throat. Neither rushed to deepen the contact. It was a slow, practiced, and languid movement of lips against lips; Castiel’s warming up Dean’s as their hands slid up behind each other’s necks. Dean tangled his fingers into the short dark hair at the back of Castiel’s head weakly, still forceless and shaking with withdrawal. But slowly, Dean began to rally. He slipped his tongue past the seam of Castiel’s lips. He started with teasing flicks of his tongue against Castiel’s before retreating again for a series of shorter pecks before a soft growl of frustration from the other man made him chuckle a little and allow a deeper embrace.

Time lost meaning quickly, so neither of them had any idea how much had passed when Castiel shifted away reluctantly. Dean’s eyes were bright, but not with fever any longer. His pupils were wide with desire, lips wet and still parted as if expecting another kiss. Castiel got to his feet and held out his hand. Dean took it and let the angel haul him up. He paused briefly, pressing his hand against Castiel’s chest to breathe through the sudden head rush. Then he tugged the angel and walked him backwards towards the rickety cot in the corner. Dean slid onto it, back braced against the wall, and Castiel lowered himself onto the hunter’s lap. It felt perfect to have the man’s groin pressed firmly against his again.

Dean wasted no time in pressing his lips to Castiel’s shoulder, then up to the shell of his ear. “Want you so bad,” he murmured in his smoky-sexy voice.

Castiel shuddered, digging his hands into Dean’s shoulders. That tone. It was definitely the incubus. As much as he’d hoped that nearly a week without physical contact of any kind would have brought Dean back to himself more, he couldn’t deny the craving for any part of him. Everything about his body was tailored to bring him the most pleasure. Uniquely for him. It was part of the poison. He recognized it for what it was. But in their more lucid moments, Dean had admitted to craving _him_. As he was. With or without the drugged haze of incubus lust. Tomorrow it would be over, anyway. Dean couldn’t take enough in that small amount of time before he was returned to himself. They could have this. Castiel _needed_ it. There was no telling what the dawn would bring. Dean often said that he lived every day, not just _like_ it was his last, but _expecting_ it to be so. Therefore, Castiel allowed the touches, kisses, longing words. The need and motivation confused him, longing for Dean but bound to the incubus. It swam around in his head in a rush of conflicting reasons, until he realized that in the end, it would always be this way. Probably since the first time he came into Dean’s life.

Castiel felt the tug to his grace and it startled him out of his musings. He wasn’t anywhere near orgasm or frenzied desire yet. Their clothes were still on. Dean’s pheromones hadn’t soaked the room yet. So long without... Castiel worked both his hands between them and gathered the hem of his hoodie in his hands, dragging it and the long sleeved t-shirt over his head. Dean took them and tossed them to the floor. His hands splayed out against Castiel’s warm chest, thumbs rubbing over his taut nipples.

The angel’s breath shuddered out of his lungs. He took another full, deep breath, and let his wings slowly unfurl on the exhale. This way it was easier for him to entangle their essence since his wings were a part of his True Form. Feel more of Dean even as the incubus clouded his senses. Dean’s hands reached for the wings right away, brushing long strokes over the downy feathers and up to the bones. Castiel’s back arched, pressing him closer to the hunter. It surprised him every time just how intimate the feel of Dean’s hands on his wings were. How right. All on their own, they fluttered and curled forward to brush against Dean’s arms and then further to tickle along his back. Dean responded to the touch by tilting his head up for another deep kiss while he fumbled with their remaining clothing.

Finally skin to skin, Dean let out a sigh of deep relief and nuzzled against Castiel’s naked chest. His hands roamed across every inch of flesh he could reach on the angel, occasionally stroking his wings as well, leaving paths of fire in the wake of his exploration. Castiel returned touch for touch, marveled at them. Neither of them rushed the contact to the frantic end they normally begged for. Dean pumped Castiel’s hard length in his hand twice then moved away down his thighs, the fleeting touch more because he hadn’t explored there yet, rather than trying to drive Castiel wild with need.

Castiel hardly minded the slow mapping of their bodies. The lack of blind desire allowed him to focus more on the blending of their energies. Dean’s soul branched out towards him almost from the moment their lips had met, and when Castiel’s grace had responded, it had been far more satisfying than any orgasm he’d ever experienced. On some level, he knew that Dean could feel it, too, and that was why his hands and mouth refused to push towards a physical end for the time being. Castiel closed his eyes, allowed his hands to wander where they wished. His mouth pressed small, chaste kisses along Dean’s jaw and face. He saw the cool blue glow of his grace in his mind’s eye; delicate strands woven towards a blinding white core. Dean’s soul was rich, pure, warm gold. Tendrils bled out from him like curls of smoke, throbbing with light, crawling towards Castiel’s grace with the same timid hesitation Dean approached him with. Castiel smiled against Dean’s lips, then sealed their mouths together confidently. His grace shone brighter, welcoming, and Dean’s soul wrapped its brilliant gold light around it and in, straight to his core.

Dean jolted and moaned deeply; a primal sound he couldn’t control. Castiel pulled him tighter, trying to tangle their limbs as intricately as the threads of their combined essence. He didn’t break the kiss, but Dean’s breathing became ragged and sawed in and out of his lungs through his nose. His blunt nails dug into Castiel’s shoulders as his hips started to thrust steadily, bringing their dicks into contact against their bellies.

The dual intimate sensations of their bodies joining along with their spirits, overwhelmed Castiel. Dean lost himself in it as well, all hints of uncertainty gone. His soul flared brightly, almost blindingly so. He _demanded_ Castiel, _begged_ for him relentlessly. The fire in their veins might turn them to ash, but it was too late to stop it. Too necessary not to try.

The roar of their joining filled Castiel and spilled over. His ears rang with it, his body thrummed with the electricity. It might have been a whisper, might have been a scream when he sobbed, “yes, Dean, _yes_ ,” and came. Dean’s teeth clamped down on the angel’s bottom lip. They both tasted blood. The flood of the incubus pheromones overwhelmed Castiel’s over-stimulated senses. He took the scent deep into his body, back bowing. Too much. It was _too much_. He wanted more. **_More, Dean, take it!_**  Then he slipped into the darkness of his release with a prayer of thanks that cooled him like a balm when he couldn’t feel anything anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter didn't cooperate as much as the others have so far, but I think I got it where it needed to go. Thank you for being so awesome, dear readers! Your constant continued support keeps me warm!


	7. Chapter 07

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean reappears. Sam and Charlie attempt the cleansing spell.

“Dean, you need to calm down,” Bobby said through the viewing port in his panic room. He didn’t know whether Dean could hear him through all his yelling and raging. He’d never seen him in such a bad way, even when he’d been a demon. This was so much worse. “Please, son, just take a breath and tell me what’s going on.”

Dean threw himself into the door with brute force, his face filling the view hole. Bobby took a step back and held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Let me out, Bobby,” Dean growled. “I need to get out.”

“Forgive me for saying so, but the hell you do,” Bobby answered, keeping his voice calm. “You’re not right. We can fix it, but you need to tell me what’s happening.”

“Nothing,” Dean seethed. “I’m fine. Pissed off about being locked up down here. There’s no - I’m not - just let me out.”

Bobby dug in his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. “Can’t do that. Sorry. I’m gonna call your brother now and see what he has to say. You didn’t say where you’d wandered off to when you left the bunker. Tells me you’re hurting for something.”

Suddenly, Dean veered off and pushed away from the door. Bobby scooted closer and watched as the hunter collapsed into a chair, head in his hands. Hell of a mood swing. When Dean spoke again, his voice was laced with weary resignation. “I need to talk to Cas.”

“Huh,” Bobby said doubtfully. “Still a little thin on the details there, son.”

“It’s not what you think.” He grimaced. “Okay, it’s probably pretty close to what you think. We... he’d been helping me. With keeping the curse from getting to me too much. But the last time wasn’t like the other times. Bobby, I did something real bad, and I need to know that he’s okay. Just. I have no idea what happened to him.”

Finally some honesty. Bobby could get behind that. He was far from willing to let the man out of his containment, because if he’d hitched himself to Sioux Falls with barely a single memory as to how he’d ended up stalled on the side of the road, he clearly didn’t need to be wandering around free. They could deal with this much, though.

“Castiel’s little midnight walk to you landed him unconscious in the hospital. Charlie and Sam got him there, and he was still breathing, but that’s all we got so far.”

“That’s something,” Dean said softly. “That’s... that’s something.” Then he went quiet again.

Bobby dialed Sam. The younger Winchester picked up after the first ring.

“I got Dean back,” Bobby said immediately. “He ain’t doing so good, so I hope you have something worked out with one of those fancy cleansing spells.”

“We do,” Sam assured him with deep relief. “Charlie and I complied the spells and got all of the reagents we need. Now we just have to cast it in Dean’s presence tonight.”

“Not a minute too soon, I’m assuming. Dean’s been sort of in and out of lucidity. He’s asking about Cas.” The silence on the other end of the line spoke volumes and Bobby dipped his head, turning around from the room so that Dean, even with his increased hearing, couldn’t quite make him out muttering, “how bad is it?”

“It’s bad,” Sam admitted. “Not sure how much yet, but bad. We got Cas to the hospital, and they say he’ll live, but that’s all I can tell you.”

“Damn,” Bobby answered. Now that Dean was calmer, he felt safe walking away from the room and up the stairs to leave the man unsupervised for a bit. Dean, though, might have been too wrapped up in his own head for the moment to pay attention, but if he put his hyped up senses to the test, he could probably even make out what Sam was saying. Better not to risk it. Once he’d climbed the stairs and shut the basement door firmly behind him, he said,  “what are a bunch of doctors gonna do for an angel, anyway?”

“That’s the thing. He might not even _be_ an angel anymore. Cas said that Dean had been feeding off of his grace. So, even though he can’t actually kill him, he _could_ potentially take all of his grace.”

“Yeah, but what did he _do_ with it all? It’s not like Dean’s immortal now, is he?”

“No idea. That’s a question we’ll have to ask Cas when he wakes up. Until then, we’ve got to get this spell cast. We’ll be on our way in a few minutes.”

Bobby glanced towards the basement warily. “No rush, but I appreciate you hauling ass if you feel so inclined. If Dean’s sucked the mojo out of an angel, there’s no telling what he’ll be able to do to my panic room. He’s too out of it to make a dent right now, but no promises for the long term.”

“Understood. We’ll be there as fast as we can.” Sam disconnected the call. Bobby sat heavily in the old chair behind his desk and released a pent up breath. It all just got messier and messier. Not like they hadn’t been in all kinds of crazy situations before, but this thing seemed different. With Dean running away when he knew there would be a cure shortly. It sent a pretty grim message that he wasn’t quite ready to contemplate.

 

 

~ o ~ x ~ xoXox ~ x ~ o ~

 

 

“Hey, Charlie,” Sam called over his shoulder, “you ready to go?”

Charlie reappeared in the waiting room, hefting a duffel and her laptop bag. “All set. I double checked everything, so we’re good. Feel kinda bad about abandoning Cas at the hospital, though. Shouldn’t someone stay with him?”

Sam’s face pinched into his Concerned Friend Expression, lips pressed tightly together. “There’s nothing we can do for him right now. The doctors have him, and he’s in good hands. They’ll call if anything changes. Right now, our priority is healing Dean. If we do that, maybe this whole mess’ll get cleared up.” He shouldered his own bag, having checked and rechecked their equipment.

“I know,” Charlie said sadly, “I still feel bad. Do we really think he’s human now?”

Sam shrugged his non-weighted down shoulder and started towards the hospital’s entrance. “That’s my best guess. But if he is, it’s nothing he hasn’t dealt with before. He’ll work it out. And we’ll be there to help him this time.”

“For sure,” Charlie agreed. They loaded their gear into the Impala’s trunk, then climbed into the car. They barely spoke on the way back out of town. Charlie opened her laptop to review all of her programs. It was an hour before they said anything. “This is as finished as I can get it,” she said, closing the laptop and resting it on her lap. “Everything says it shouldn’t hurt Dean no matter what. I wish we had Cas to look over it one more time.”

Sam glanced at her. “No kidding. But he did review it before, and nothing’s really changed since then. It’ll be fine.”

She sighed, the puff of air blowing her bangs out of her eyes. “Sure, yeah, but I mean, is it always like this for you guys? I was there for some pretty nasty stuff, of course, but is _every_ case like this? One of you almost dying, or getting maimed, or cursed, or in some other way, broken?”

Sam chuckled, not without a dose of humor. “Not always,” he assured her. “We’ve had plenty of cases that were straightforward. Most of them are, in fact. Things got crazier with the Apocalypse and all, but usually it’s nothing more than a simple salt and burn. Nothing we do has _no_ danger, but life and death doesn’t happen nearly as often as milk runs.”

Charlie wiggled down into her seat more comfortably. “That’s good, I guess. Every time I think about you and Dean, I’m always picturing like, the Ogre Wars, y’know?”

Sam’s laugh this time held far more amusement. “Yeah. You’ve definitely been around for an inordinate amount of the crazy stuff.”

“Even so, sometimes I think Dean takes more risks than anyone else,” Charlie said quietly, watching Sam for his reaction.

The younger Winchester shook his head in wry understanding. “You’re not wrong. I’ve told him the same thing. He doesn’t listen to anyone except himself, though.”

“Is that what happened this time?” she asked carefully.

“No. We were tracking the incubus. Doing pretty good. Had the guy pinned down at a hotel. We went in careful, especially after the last time we dealt with one. We were outside the door about ready to bust in. But... we were too early. The incubus wasn’t even inside. He saw us in the hallway and he got the jump on us. Managed to bite Dean before we could take him down. No one played cowboy that time.”

Charlie hummed and was quiet again. After a long time she said, “I love you guys. I want you to stay alive as long as possible.”

“Same to you, Charlie.”

 

 

~ o ~ x ~ xoXox ~ x ~ o ~

 

 

Dean had grown unnaturally quiet in the intervening hours before Charlie and Sam’s return. Bobby went down to check on him every now and then, but the scene never changed. Dean had overturned the table and chairs during his previous destructive anger, but it had burned itself out. He sat in the far corner of the room, legs drawn up, forehead resting on his knees. Bobby had even chanced opening the door to slide a plate of food inside. Dean hadn’t even bothered to look up. An hour and a half later, he hadn’t touched the food or the bottle of water.

“You need to eat,” Bobby said through the porthole.

No answer.

“Charlie and Sam’ll be here soon to straighten you out. It’ll be better then.”

Not even a flinch.

He put his hand on the port to close it, but Dean stopped him when he spoke, voice hoarse and broken. “How’s Cas? Don’t lie to me, Bobby.”

Bobby paused. “He’ll be all right.”

“I said not to lie to me.” His voice was flat. Too exhausted to even try for anger. “It doesn’t feel like he’ll be all right.”

Bobby shifted closer in interest. “What do you mean by that?”

Dean’s head slid up so that his chin was resting on his knees now. He met Bobby square in the eyes for the first time since he’d gotten there. “I dunno. It’s like... I can sense him. Somehow. There’s a... connection. I think he’s dreaming or something.”

“I’ll be damned,” Bobby murmured. “You bond with him? The lore mentioned it happening sometimes.”

Dean shrugged weakly. “Who knows? I got out of there before I really knew what was happening. And until now I’ve been pretty out of it, right? Sorry for...” he peered around the room sheepishly. Swallowed thickly. “Sorry for wrecking the place.”

“Nothing that can’t be put back together,” Bobby assured him. “Look, when Sam called he didn’t have a whole lot of info. Said that they took Cas to the hospital, and the doctors are saying he’ll recover.”

“I think he’s having a nice dream,” Dean said wistfully, like he hadn’t heard Bobby and was somewhere else entirely. “I can’t see it, but it’s like he’s... floating? Maybe? It’s weird. He’s calm though, wherever he is.” His voice sharpened as he visibly shook himself out of his reverie. “He’s gonna kick my ass for this.”

Bobby snorted. “I doubt it. He’s forgiven you for worse, and I bet he always will. Just try to rest, okay? They’ll be here soon. Everything’ll be fine.”

Dean put his forehead back down on his knees. Bobby could hardly hear him when he mumbled, “whatever you say.”

“Hang in there, son,” Bobby said softly, closing the hatch and going back upstairs to wait for the cavalry to arrive.

They did, right after dark, everyone trading looks of concern. Bobby gestured them inside. “He’s been quiet down there for a while now. I think he’s run out of energy to rage.”

Charlie set her laptop bag down on Bobby’s overflowing desk carefully. “That’s good, I guess. He’ll be more cooperative for the spell.”

“He said something interesting,” he said pointedly to Sam. “Led me to believe that he may have bonded with Cas.”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up. Charlie swung around. “What?” They both said together, Sam’s voice laced with disbelief and Charlie’s with interest.

Bobby shifted on his feet, uncomfortable with the news. “Dean said... well, he said he could feel Cas dreaming in the hospital. They’re connected in some way. Not like I’m saying I care about the two of them getting all cozy, but what happens if they’re bonded in some way and we break it with a spell?”

Sam winced. “I have no idea. We hadn’t thought about it. Didn’t think it would happen. The lore was pretty vague about it. Cas seemed to think they _couldn’t_ bond.”

“Might have happened,” Bobby warned.

Charlie took a small step forward. “So, wait. Does this mean Dean might... maybe _not_ want to be cured? Have you asked him?”

“No way,” Sam said firmly. “If he said no now it’s because he’s more monster than human. He didn’t want that then, and he doesn’t want that now. He said a long time ago not to let him get to this point and just leave him. He’d rather be dead than something we hunt.”

Bobby shucked off his worn hat and scrubbed his hair before putting it back on. “I tend to agree with you, but I’ve still got a bad feeling.”

“Don’t jinx it or anything,” Charlie muttered.

“We’re doing the spell,” Sam said. “Cas and Dean both have been through worse than whatever will happen to the bond if it’s broken, okay? Come on. Let’s go talk to him and get it over with. The longer we wait, the worse he’ll get.”

“Fine,” Bobby said. He led them down to the basement and opened the hatch. “Dean? Sam and Charlie are here.”

No answer.

“We’re ready to go with the spell,” Charlie added helpfully.

Still no answer.

They shared another group look of suspicion and then Sam nodded at Bobby to open the door. The three of them could reasonably take the elder Winchester, pumped up on incubus poison or not. Bobby turned the handle and slid the door open. “Balls,” he said with feeling.

Dean was sprawled on the floor, unconscious and sweating profusely. He was shaking and his eyelids fluttered almost like he was having a seizure. They rushed to his side, Sam patting his face. “Crap, what do we do?” he demanded when his brother didn’t answer. “Call 911?” He hovered between wanting to slap him again or starting CPR. Bobby fussed in the same manner until Charlie grabbed both their arms.

“Wait, wait! Can you hear him? He’s talking.”

Everyone froze, and for a minute they couldn’t make out any words at all. Just breathy moans as Dean’s lips parted, breathing rapidly. But after a moment, his body relaxed onto the ground, going completely slack, his tremors disappearing.

Sam took off his jacket, slid it under Dean’s head, and then put his ear close to his brother’s mouth. For a moment he listened intently, and the others barely dared to breathe while he concentrated. Sam said, “I think... I think he’s talking to Cas.”

 

 

~ o ~ x ~ xoXox ~ x ~ o ~

 

 

Dean felt like he was having an out of body experience. Not too sure how he’d gotten to that point, though it was probably due to the way his body and his soul were hollering for Cas. Hearing that he was hurt because of him... maybe dying. It was too much. He couldn’t just ignore it. Then he’d started to feel the tug. At first it had merely been a small pull in the back of his mind, kind of like the feeling of having forgotten something when walking out the door in the morning. He hadn’t even known it was Cas calling out to him. Gradually it became an itch he couldn’t quite scratch in his brain. Like he was struggling for a simple word that he couldn’t remember. Then it had grown and grown in the silence after Bobby left him on his own. He could sense panic and fear and pain and _longing_. So much longing, just aching for him. Reaching out. It burned in his chest; insistent, hot. He recalled the feeling from years ago. This was it. The same scorching that had touched him when he’d been raised out of Hell. But it was different this time. More consuming. Like Castiel was clutching at his very soul. Maybe he was.

He couldn’t talk, couldn’t make his mouth work. No sound came out. But the insistent _emotion_ finally got through and he felt a responding warmth. He could see behind his closed eyes, what he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, was his soul. Bright pulsing light. Warm in color and hot in temperature. It spilled in ropes and tendrils outward from his core towards a responding blue, formless light. _Cas_.

He reached his arm out, but again, his body failed to respond. The tendrils jerked forward instead, though. Good. That would work. He strained until his warm light came into contact with the blue threads. He nearly yanked himself away at the raw fear he felt from it. _Cas, are you scared?_ The blue light pulsed again, wrapping itself slowly and eagerly around him. Seeking reassurance. He focused on trying to get his arms to wrap around the light, pleased when the gold tendrils enclosed blue. The relief from Cas was immediate. It warmed Dean further. So they really _were_ bonded. He’d thought that it would make him uneasy, but this was _Cas_. The nerdy angel he’d known for what seemed like an age. They didn’t owe each other anything, but what Cas had done for him this time was far above and beyond the call of duty. He’d been willing to sacrifice himself. Happy to. Dean never would have believed it, except that he could _feel_ it plain as day right now. Castiel didn’t want to hide from him. Nothing about the bond shied away when Dean poked at it. They couldn’t talk, though in some ways, this was better. Easier. More natural.

A wash of sadness coursed through him. The blue light responded with a pulse of concern. He wished that he could explain. Still, he thought, _Sam and Charlie are almost here with the spell. I don’t know what’ll happen once it’s cast. It might hurt us if this... bond, or whatever, breaks._

The warmth increased with a touch of sadness to match his own. He clung tighter to the tendrils. _I’m so damn sorry, Cas. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I never wanted to. I shouldn’t have lost myself like that. Are you really human now? Did I take all your grace?_

The blue light dimmed slightly. So it was true. _Can I give it back?_

This time the light pulsed sharply like an electric shock. In his mind, Dean could see Castiel shaking his head vehemently.

 _Cas, man, don’t do this,_ he thought with affection. _You’ve done enough already. This? This isn’t meant to be. I can’t keep it at your expense. I want you to have it back._ The blue light almost strangled him with how hard it held on, but gently, Dean began to imagine his hands untangling it. Brushed gently down his arms, urging it on. Castiel tried not to let go. Dean could sense his panic. He persisted anyway, firmly but carefully brushing and pushing until gold was separate from blue again. It hovered there. _Let me do this for you, Cas,_ he thought. _I want you back the way that you were. I need that. We can’t hurt each other anymore. We have to stop. Please. Please, just this once, Cas. Let’s stop before it’s too late._

Slowly, so slowly that he barely noticed it happening, the blue light began to fade. The loss clawed itself like ice into Dean, but he could adjust to the cold. He’d always been able to before. When it had finally gone completely, Dean blinked his eyes open. He found himself staring at the devil’s trap on the ceiling of Bobby’s panic room. It smelled acrid in the room with the static cling of magic still hanging in the air.

“Thank God, pardon my language,” Bobby said with relief, filling his vision. “Weren’t sure if the spell worked or not. You all right, son?”

Dean blinked again. Again. “Yeah,” he whispered. Still, the word didn’t help stop the tears from slipping out the corners of his eyes and down into his ears. He’d been alone and lonely most of his life. But he’d never been so empty. Fuck, but he was hopelessly empty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you loved this chapter as much as me, everyone! Thank you so much to [Ltleflrt](http://ltleflrt.tumblr.com) for helping me get through my roadblock on this chapter!


	8. Chapter 08

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath.

“Did it work?” Sam leaned over his brother who was still prostrate on the floor.

“Maybe too early to tell?” Charlie said from somewhere to Dean’s right. “Dean? Are you really okay? You don’t look well.”

“Not,” Dean rasped. “Really, really not.” He couldn’t move to wipe away his embarrassing tears yet. His limbs might as well have been super glued to the concrete.

“Can you sit up?” Bobby asked. “Bet some food would help. You haven’t had anything to eat or drink since you got here.”

Dean struggled to sit up, but his muscles trembled uselessly. Charlie scrambled to help him slowly. “Not really feeling it,” Dean said hoarsely. “I just need to get back to see Cas.”

“Is that really the best decision?” Sam asked. “You should probably stay away until we know for sure that the spell worked. Regardless, you need to rest as well. You’re in no condition to be traveling anywhere.”

Dean leveled his brother with a sharp look. “I’ve been a hell of a lot worse.” He grasped Charlie’s jacket in a death grip as he settled himself upright, wavering and dizzy. “Please, guys. I need to get to the hospital. I can’t really explain it, but I have to. I have to talk to Cas.”

Charlie shook her head, but Sam knelt down to brace Dean up under his armpits, hefting him to his feet. “You can barely walk,” he pointed out. Dean leaned heavily on his side for nearly a full minute, head bowed, taking deep, fortifying breaths. “Seriously, Dean. I know you love being a badass and all that, but it’s over now. You’re healing and the rest can wait until you’re able to travel. We’re not asking for the world here. Only the night. Eat something. Sleep. Then we’ll go, if you’re really better. I promise.”

Dean snorted. “You just said I’m healing. You don’t even know if the spell worked or not?”

Charlie dusted her jeans off as she led them all back up the stairs. “There’s really no way to tell until you’re feeling better. Or not. Unless _you_ can tell a difference now?”

Dean paused and took stock. His whole body still hurt, but it wasn’t... it wasn’t the same. Felt like he’d been through the wringer for sure, though the cravings were gone. He couldn’t decide whether that was because of the spell or his bone-deep exhaustion. The human body could only take so much, after all. Then again, that weird bond experience might have had something to do with it, too. Reset the cravings again, or something. Fuck he had a headache. He resumed his careful trudge up the stairs. “I honestly can’t tell. It’s like I got the worst hangover of all time. Not the crazy cravings I had before, but it could come back. I have no idea.”

“Food, then,” Bobby said. “I stocked up a few days ago.” He opened the basement door ahead of them so that they could file into the main room. Dean shuffled to the kitchen to collapse into a chair at the table. He figured it wasn’t worth arguing with the cavalry about nutrition at this point, so he allowed his brother to make him a sandwich and pour him a tall glass of ice water. It helped. He gulped down the whole first glass in seconds, soothing his parched throat. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, coughing. He held the glass back out, ice tinkling in it. Sam took it and refilled it for him.

Meanwhile, Charlie took pity on the elder Winchester. She told him all about how they’d found Cas in the bunker; cold, barely breathing. Neither the paramedics nor the doctors seemed to find anything out of place when he’d been brought in. Not like they could detect supernatural illnesses. She and Sam had waited until he was settled into a private room with IV fluids and oxygen. The doctors told them Castiel had had a close call. He hadn’t responded to treatment for a time, his body temperature refusing to climb, and his vitals unstable for hours. But nothing had changed, and nothing had dipped to critical levels, so Charlie and Sam had left to take care of Dean, figuring all they were doing was wasting precious time since there was nothing else they could offer a possibly human angel.

Half way through her story, Sam’s phone rang and he left the room to answer. Dean didn’t pay much attention until his brother came back looking mystified. “That was the hospital,” he said. A palpable clap of tension took over the room as they all turned their attention to him. “The doctors say that Cas is getting better. They said it was the damndest thing. He’d just stabilized out of nowhere a little while ago. His temp came up, vitals evened out. He’s still not awake, but he’ll live.”

Dean picked at the bread on his sandwich. “S’probably because I was talking to him.”

“Huh,” Charlie said. “When we found you, you were kinda babbling. You said Castiel’s name a few times.”

Eyes still downcast, Dean said, “yeah. We were connected in some way. I could sense him out there. It was like he was looking for me. He was scared. So I calmed him down, I guess.”

“That’s what bonds are supposed to do,” Bobby said. “Guess that’s something to add to the lore notes. Cas said it probably wasn’t possible for an angel to bond with a human or a monster, but he didn’t know for sure.”

Dean lifted the sandwich to his mouth and took a small bite to delay his answer. He understood what they were getting at. He had an answer for them. Giving it was the bigger problem. He could hardly bring himself to put voice to what he’d seen of Castiel’s truth. It felt like an invasion of his most private thoughts. So, he settled on saying, “it happened.”

Charlie leaned her hip onto the corner of the table. She crossed her arms over her chest. “Okay, so what does that mean now? What’s the deal with bonds? Is it like fantasy romance genre or something where if one gets hurt, the other feels it? If one dies, so does the other? Can you read each other’s minds? Uh. Guess you already answered that one. What’s up the rest, though?”

“Dunno,” Dean answered, pleased in some small measure to have the talk directed towards more of the theory than the personal. “If nothing else, we were only bonded for a day. No time to get into the details much.”

“Were?” Bobby cut in sharply.

Dean scratched at his forearm absently. “I’m pretty sure it broke. Pretty sure _I_ broke it.”

“What? How?” Sam demanded.

Dean cleared his throat against the sudden tightness. He took another bite of his sandwich, but could barely choke it down. He washed it away with a huge gulp of water, though his stalling didn’t work on his family. They all continued to stare at him expectantly. They wouldn’t let it go, so he finally said, “I told him to leave.”

“That’s it?” Bobby said incredulously. “You had some psychic chat with Cas while you were both out and he simply upped and _left_ your melon ‘cause you said so? Somehow that don’t sound like the angel _I_ know.”

“Yeah, I know,” Dean answered, more exhausted than ever. “He still did it, though.”

“Because you asked him to,” Sam said softly.

“Pretty much.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m really sorry,” Sam said. He looked it, too. “You and Cas... I never thought about it much, truth be told. I’m in support, though.”

Dean made a face like he’d sucked a lemon. “Uh... thanks for that, Sammy, but I don’t think it was ever like that with us. All evidence to the contrary. He was doing me a solid. That’s it.”

Charlie scooted towards Dean. “For him, too? Somehow, it feels like you’re downplaying some significant stuff here.”

“Maybe, but that’s none of your business.” He said, not unkindly. “There’s no point to asking a bunch of what-ifs. We need to find out if the spell worked and get Cas back to fighting form. Deal with the rest later.”

Charlie looked torn, and also about to launch off on a thousand rapid fire questions, so Sam put a hand on her arm to stall her. “That’s fine. Whatever helps you the most, Dean.”

“Careful saying that shit, Sammy. The last guy who did ended up almost dying,” Dean said bitterly.

“Dean-”

“It’s _fine_ ,” he insisted, pushing back from the table and standing. He was much more steady now. “You don’t need to baby me. Get packed up. If you’re not ready to go in half an hour, I’m leaving your asses here.” He stomped out of the house, slamming the front door behind him.

“Nice to see his manners have improved,” Bobby said sarcastically. “He’s so good at expressing gratitude.”

Sam shook his head. “I’ll say it for the both of us, then. I’m really grateful, Bobby.”

He clapped the man on the shoulder. “And don’t I know it.”

Charlie, having taken Dean at his word, started repacking their supplies as quickly as she could. “He’ll come around when he’s done blaming himself,” she said wisely.

Bobby snorted. “Him being alive is good enough.”

“You wanna come with?” Sam asked.

Bobby shook his head. “Nah. I’ve had my excitement for the day. You idjits just take care of yourselves. Let me know what they say about Cas.”

“Will do.” Sam picked up his bag, making sure he’d resealed all of the spell components in their separate bags. In twenty minutes they were out the door and back on the road to the county hospital.

It took less than twenty minutes of Sam’s furtive glances over towards his brother in the passenger seat before Dean snapped, “just ask me, Sam.” He was leaning his elbow against the armrest, chin in his hand, watching the uninspired scenery go by, and didn’t turn to address his brother directly.

“I’m just... all the stuff with the bonding and whatever else happened with Cas... how are you doing? Seriously. Do you really not feel any different at all?”

“I’m pissed off,” Dean muttered into his palm.

“That’s something!” Charlie said brightly from the back seat. She scooted towards the middle and poked her head between the brothers. “Cas mentioned that when you were all incubus-y, you didn’t feel... well, _feelings_ all that much.”

He would have liked nothing better than to not be having a conversation about his well-being, but when he paused for a moment to consider her words, Dean realized that Charlie was actually right. Being irritated sure as shit wasn’t the most pleasant thing, but it indeed beat the hell out of the constant nothingness that had dominated his psyche since the first time with Castiel. All he’d felt then was an undeniable drive to fuck the angel’s brains out. And that wasn’t even an emotion. It had been like all of his higher brain functions had shut down and he had run on pure instinct. This was better, but he didn’t have to like it. “I am now,” he said finally.

“Any other symptoms?”

“Jesus, Sam, you’re not my doctor.”

“It’s important, okay? I know you’re worried about Cas. We all are. But the best way to save him is to make sure that we’ve got you back to normal.”

“I know,” Dean said through gritted teeth. “I’m sorry, it’s just... _dammit_. I screwed it all up again and that’s on me. I’m pissed. I’m tired. I’m hungry. I’m pretty much everything not good. But... I also feel like I don’t want to have sex ever again. The other stuff is gone for now. Dunno if it’ll come back, but it feels gone. For good.”

Sam glanced over at Dean again, expression softening. “Cas will understand.”

Dean huffed a bitter laugh. “Not if I keep pushing my luck testing the limits of his good will.”

Charlie laughed outright. “I’ll bet you a hundred bucks he doesn’t have those kinds of limits.”

“I hope not,” Dean muttered, refocusing on the landscape and tuning everything else out again.

 

 

~ o ~ x ~ xoXox ~ x ~ o ~

 

 

Sam didn’t even bother suggesting they park and all go to visit Castiel together. He pulled up to the hospital’s main entrance and told Dean the room number before saying he’d run some errands while waiting for Dean to call for a pickup. Dean left without another word.

As soon as he got into the hospital, Dean hesitated. Every cell in his body pulled him towards Castiel, but... what if it was worse than he’d anticipated? What if he’d done irreparable damage? Somehow, he wanted to laugh at himself. They’d had worse. Hell, Cas being human wasn’t even a new thing. Slowly, he let his feet carry him towards the private rooms, glancing at each number he passed. By the time he stopped in front of Castiel’s door, he admitted to himself that his fear was in forgiveness. Yeah, they’d had worse things happen at the expense of themselves and others. Yeah, they’d been in tighter spots than attracting weird curses. Yeah, they’d fought off the worst of each other to come back every single time. Yet, this was different. This wasn’t some curse or possession or brain washing that had led to Dean pushing Castiel away. It had been a conscious choice born of his own free will and desire to protect the angel from _himself_. Not just the monster he’d seen himself becoming. The reluctance he’d felt from Castiel over breaking the bond had been bad. But the acceptance, like he’d been _expecting_ it, had been the most horrible thing. Best to just rip off the Band-Aid, then.

The door to Castiel’s room stood open. Dean ambled up to the side of it, peeking into the room. The overhead lighting was off, but the blinds on the window were open, letting in the natural early morning light. Visiting hours hadn’t officially started yet, but the halls were quiet and no one bothered to stop Dean from knocking lightly on the door frame before entering the room.

Damn, but Castiel looked like shit. Pale, gaunt, circles under his eyes. How had he not noticed it before? Had he really been so stuck in his own head that he couldn’t even recognize when he was killing an _angel_?

Castiel’s low voice startled him. “Hello, Dean.” He didn’t open his eyes or move a muscle.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean murmured. He shuffled to the bed and dragged a plastic chair over. He sat heavily, unsure whether he should touch Castiel or not. The compulsion was there, as always, but it suddenly felt like overstepping. “How are you feeling?”

“How are _you_ feeling?”

Dean tried for a moment to pretend that he hadn’t heard the bitterness in Castiel’s voice. When that failed he said, “I’m getting better, I think. The only way to know for sure is if none of my symptoms come back in a day or two.”

“I see.”

Dean leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and bowing his head. “Cas, I’m really... fuck. I dunno. Of all the bad ideas we’ve had over the years, this was probably the worst.” He glanced up to find Castiel staring at him. Dean swallowed hard when he recognized the look. Castiel was hurt.

It only lasted for a moment, though. The angel blinked and in the next second his expression was neutral. “We both survived. I am sure the spell worked. It was the right thing to do. I believe that.”

“You’re down for the count in a hospital bed,” Dean pointed out.

“My grace is already starting to recover.”

Dean’s heart stuttered in his chest. “So, you’re not... I mean... uh. You’re still an angel?”

“Yes.” The confirmation sounded pained.

“That’s... but that’s good, right?”

Sadness overtook Castiel’s worn face as he looked at the hunter again. “When we spoke through the bond, I could hear your words. You couldn’t hear mine, though, could you?”

Dean shook his head. “I felt stuff, but there weren’t any words.”

“It’s probably because when we joined, you were not fully an incubus, I was not fully human, and you didn’t consciously realize what you were doing. The fact that it happened at all is quite impossible.”

“But it did,” Dean said softly.

“For a time, yes,” Castiel said.

“Is it really broken?” Dean didn’t want to ask.

“Yes. An unwilling bond cannot sustain itself. Especially if it was tenuous from the beginning.”

He wasn’t sure how to answer that. Castiel’s flat voice gave him nothing. They couldn’t make eye contact for more than a few seconds. And Castiel was only stating the facts of the matter. What did he _feel_? Should he ask? Or would that just make an awkward situation unbearable?

“May I tell you something, Dean?” Castiel asked.

He sounded so damn _normal_ that Dean hesitated. Castiel still had it in him to be completely unreadable. Against his better judgement he said, “sure. Anything.”

“I want you to know what I attempted to communicate to you through the bond.”

Mouth dry, Dean nodded. “Okay,” he said uncertainly.

“I’m not telling you to elicit any sort of reaction, but I do need you to know.”

Dean rolled his eyes. He knew that. Castiel was further from passive-aggressive than any being, past, present, or future. But then he took a moment to really _see_ Castiel. He was staring at the wall in front of him, clearly not focused on it. His jaw was set with a bland expression. All normal for the angel, except that he clenched the thin bed sheets in a white knuckled grip. Dean recalled the fear he’d experienced through Castiel. Now he saw it with his own two eyes. Gently, Dean said, “I get it. Out with it, Cas.”

Another long moment of silence followed, broken only by the soft beeps from the heart monitor next to the bed. “I didn’t want to break the bond,” he blurted in a rush.

Dean’s eyes widened. The heart monitor beeps quickened then steadied again.

More calmly, Castiel repeated, “I didn’t want to break it. Feeling another soul - _your_ soul - touching my grace... accepting it... it made me happy. More than that. There aren’t really words for how I...” he stopped. His face pinched as he took a deep breath. “I tried to tell you that it wasn’t you who had pushed for too much and harmed me. Dean, I accepted the demand and gave you everything. I tried to tell you that a single human lifespan for me with you was worth the alternative.”

He really, _really_ did not know how to answer that.

Castiel turned his head on the pillow. Now that he’d said his piece, he wasn’t afraid anymore. He faced Dean like any other challenge he’d been met with and accepted. “This comes as a shock to you.”

Did it? Well, in his heart of hearts he’d say yes and no. Yes because he’d diligently spent years not wanting to get tangled up with a damn angel of the Lord. How would that work? They’d both be damned for sure, absent God or not. And no, because... well, _because_. All the diligence in the universe didn’t stop him from noticing the attraction at least some of the time. “Yes,” he said.

Castiel nodded, pressing his chapped lips together like the expected answer had impressed him. “Since I woke up I debated the merits of telling you this at all. I want to ask you for a favor.”

Dean coughed. Rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m always good for those,” he said.

“Thank you. I am asking you not to answer me yet. I want you to truly think about what I’ve said. Take the time you need. It’s very important to me, Dean. But I would never ask you for more than you could give. I will accept anything. When I am well enough, I’m going to leave for a while. Give you the time and the space that you need. Humans tend to appreciate that.”

The corner of Dean’s lip tipped up. “Yeah. Okay. I can do that for you.”

Castiel nodded again.

“Where are you going to go?”

“Somewhere quiet, I think.”

“Somewhere your phone works?”

He shrugged. “I’m not sure. I’m an angel, Dean. I will always hear you pray.”

Dean stood up. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he said. “I really will, y’know... think about everything. Take care of yourself, okay?”

Castiel smiled and then shifted his blue gaze to the window. “I will. Thank you, Dean.”

Once outside in the cold morning air, Dean took his cell phone out of his jacket pocket to call Sam and let him know that he was ready to go home. While waiting, he contemplated the numbness that had overtaken him at Castiel’s confession. It was different than when he’d been an incubus. Then it had been as though his body had rejected any emotion that didn’t have to do directly with seduction and sexual fulfillment. Now it was like there was too damn much, so his body and mind had decided that it preferred feeling nothing rather than everything. Dean sat down heavily on a freezing cold metal bench in front of the pickup and drop off lanes outside of the main hospital complex. Maybe he’d be able to process it all better if it hadn’t felt an awful lot like Castiel had been trying to say goodbye. He’d done it before, and just like then, Dean was still helpless to stop him. Helpless to know for sure whether he wanted it. In many ways, Castiel was too big. Too much. Too important. Too frightening. Too complicated. It was exactly why Dean had been so willing to try with Lisa, Cassie, and a handful of others. They were _human_. They made sense even when their needs differed. What would it all mean if he accepted Castiel? There had to be a ripple effect _somewhere_. And some days his soul felt damned enough as it stood.

The growling rumble of the Impala’s engine cut off Dean’s increasing depressive thoughts. He climbed into the passenger seat. And when Sam asked him how it went, Dean said, “fine”. They were fine. He was fine. It was fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You are all amazing. Do you know that? I hope you know that! If you keep leaving your comments, I will tell each and every one of you how amazing you are!


	9. Chapter 09

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter.

Castiel couldn’t think of anywhere to go, so the first place that popped into his head became his destination. He sat on the dry sand close to where Dean had on the beach in Hokkaido. No one was out, despite it being a Sunday. A stiff, frigid wind blew in from the ocean and whipped at his hair and coat. Dark gray clouds writhed above him. In front of him, the ocean foamed and seethed. There was probably a local blizzard warning in effect. Castiel was glad that he couldn’t feel the cold.

Loathe as he was to do it, he found a certain poetry in the weather and his mood. He wasn’t angry like the sky, but he wished that he was. The last thing he’d wanted to be was understanding. He’d always been that with Dean. Always let him call the shots. Always let him make his move. Always let him decide their fate. Always let him have the last word. It tore at Castiel, deep in his chest, knowing that Dean _took_ because Castiel _allowed_. His love was a passive, toxic thing inside him. That’s why he’d _given_ before Dean _demanded_ at their final joining. He’d been thrilled, terrified when Dean had _accepted_. Then he’d crushed it when he had returned the gift with buyer’s remorse.

Castiel tossed a piece of driftwood into the surf with a sigh. He’d never been so uncharitable of thought before. This must have been what his brothers and sisters talked about when they told him that he’d been on Earth among the humans for too long. Then again, he supposed he couldn’t always have the good parts. He had to take the good with the bad, or have nothing at all. But since he had accepted that fact, he allowed a bit of petulance and self-pity to leak in because the bad was a lot easier to focus on than trying to find the good.

A light snow began to fall. Castiel stood up, turning his face towards it. He had always liked snow. Supposedly rain was the purifying agent. But when it solidified into endless fractals that chilled everything they touched, Castiel found beauty in that. He saw God in a world painted white. He supposed that he should be grateful for that much since he rarely saw God anywhere else.

It was time to leave. Maybe somewhere indoors. Remote. He was slightly surprised that he desired to be squirreled away confined after spending days in the hospital. But when he appeared in an old prospector’s cabin in Montana, he was glad he’d come. No one ever stayed here. It was remote and all of the old trails leading towards it had overgrown years ago. Decades, probably. Castiel maintained it himself with pride. It was small so that it could be heated easily during the harsh winters, just under two hundred square feet total. There was an iron fireplace, double bed, wood burning stove, and a hand carved wooden table worn shiny with use. Not much else in the way of decoration since Castiel didn’t need those sorts of things, but he’d brought a few items in over time. A crocheted blanket, moth-eaten brown sofa, a curious collection of river rocks that he enjoyed the feel of. Castiel snapped his fingers and a fire roared to life in the fireplace. He’d never gotten the hang of making them the human way, though he was fascinated by the process.

He removed his trench coat and folded it carefully over the back of the couch before sitting down to watch the flames in the fireplace. The musky smell of burning wood combined with the sound of crackling sparks relaxed him immeasurably. It never failed to.

He took a moment to look around the room, smiling. Nothing had changed in his absence, he was pleased to note, except for a thin layer of undisturbed dust. Naturally he hadn’t expected anyone to have found the place. He’d warded it quite strictly once he’d realized that no one owned the place or even visited, like so many spots in this part of the country; either turned into ghost towns or swallowed up and claimed by nature. His eyes settled on the bed tucked into the far corner of the room behind the utility sink that only had running water from a well outside about half the time. Angels didn’t sleep. There was no reason for that bed to be there at all. Once upon a time he’d allowed himself the small and brief fantasy of bringing Dean here. The very air surrounding the secluded spot felt like him. He’d enjoy the rough terrain. Probably love fishing in the cold river less than a mile away. Castiel had thought about it when he’d visited the hunter in his dream to find him sitting by a lake. His happy place. Somewhere quiet with a good view. The sunrises from the cabin were spectacular.

He spent several days there before moving on to Egypt. Then Australia. Then almost a month after he’d left the Winchesters to wander, he was walking along the cliffs in Ireland when he heard Dean’s voice. It made him ache even though it was only a thin echo of the real thing.

_Hey, Cas. Uh. Hey, you can come on back whenever. We should talk._

Between Castiel’s irritated, knee-jerk reaction of _finally_ , and the dull throb behind his sternum, he didn’t have enough clarity of mind to be amused that Dean had sounded almost embarrassed with his short prayer. He straightened his tie and took himself back to the bunker.

 

 

~ o ~ x ~ xoXox ~ x ~ o ~

 

 

Dean called himself a chickenshit every chance he got these days. As soon as he’d left the hospital and put Sam off with his questions, he’d elected to ignore all of it, promise or no. There was probably a special level of torment in Hell for outright lying to an angel. Maybe being cursed to listen to Crowley sing show tunes at him for a hundred years, or something. Dean smiled a little at the thought. He’d probably take requests after a few decades and Dean could get him to do all of _Little Shop of Horrors_.

Those thoughts only kept the real problems at bay for so long, though. With both Charlie and Sam breathing down his neck, and no new cases to speak of for the moment, he couldn’t hide himself as well as he’d hoped, and even Charlie had found him moping in the storage room and said, “come _on_ , Dean, it’s like you’re begging me to ask you what’s got you so down.” Like she didn’t already know the answer.

Luckily, Sam being the smart man that he was, gave Dean his space for weeks. Dean was grateful because he _knew_ his little brother was getting an ulcer trying to keep his mouth shut. Wasn’t like he couldn’t figure out the high notes, of course. Dean sunk in a depression, Castiel never showing up. Everyone knew how to add up that equation.

Three weeks became the cutoff point, though. That was a whole week longer than Dean had been betting on. Sam trapped him by the coffee maker, rightly assuming that Dean would deal with his questions rather than forgo caffeine so early in the morning. Fucking brothers, man.

“Dean,” he said with that “get ready because I’m loading your name with all the warnings and feelings I can to prepare you for what’s ahead” tone.

“Sam,” Dean answered in his best “not a single emotion or giveaway” tone.

“I’m not trying to force you or anything, but it’s obvious something’s up with you and Cas after everything went down, and I’d like you to tell me what’s going on.”

Dean slammed the carafe back onto the warming pad a bit harder than intended. He swung around to face his brother and spread his arms wide. “There’s nothing going on, Sammy. Zero. Zilch. Nada.”

“Obviously,” Sam answered sarcastically. “You haven’t left the bunker except to go buy groceries, and Cas hasn’t shown himself for three weeks now. Did you tell him to leave?”

Dean let out a sound between a groan and a growl. “No. He did that on his own.”

“Why?”

“I’m not having this talk with you.”

Sam huffed and trailed Dean out to the war room. “You say that every time, Dean. Look, I know when to back off and I know when you should just talk. Get it out there. You’ve been like this for _three weeks_ and nothing’s gotten better. I’d say that’s enough time for you to work it out on your own, and since it doesn’t appear to be helping, it’s time to give something else a try.”

Dean wasn’t angry, not really. He also wasn’t unwilling to talk about it. It felt weird with Sam because they’d been close with Castiel for so long. And now it was some strange, nebulous thing. More than being scared of confiding in his brother, he just wanted to hold the status quo for as long as possible. But there was no such thing anymore. He and Cas had crossed a line that had built up a brick wall behind them. Telling everything to his brother would just make it real. He didn’t know if he was ready for that. But why did he fear change anyway? It was the defining characteristic of his life.

Instead of answering Sam head-on, he said, “I just want shit to stay the same, y’know? The crap we have control over.” He hated how defeated he sounded saying it out loud. He sat down at the war table, hands wrapped around his mug almost defensively.

Carefully, Sam sat down across from him. “I don’t get it. Are you talking about you and Cas, or what?”

“I guess so,” he admitted like he was having a tooth pulled. “It’s all of it, you know? Why the hell am I the one to call this? What makes me so special to be like, ‘hey, yeah, let’s change the entire dynamic of our lives because I want to.’ Every time I make a big call, it always goes south.”

“Not always,” Sam protested gently. “Look, Dean, I know I’ve said this to you before, but it’s not all on you. And more than that, you deserve to be happy when you can. It’s a big thing for either of us, right? Sure, it might be short lived. Maybe it ends up right back where you started. But I think it’s worth it.”

“How?” Dean demanded, mystified.

Sam smiled. “Because there’s not enough of it. Happiness, I mean. You’ve had your hang-ups, and a ton of reasons to be cautious. After Cassie, after Lisa, man you _tried_. You really did, but you also learned.”

Dean stared at the black brew in his mug. “Yeah,” he agreed bitterly. “I learned that I ruin everything I touch.”

Sam sighed. “You like to think that. I disagree on a lot of it. I also disagree completely with you pushing your issues onto Cas. It’s _Cas_. I’m almost positive that everything will be different with him.” When Dean gave him a knowing look, he hastened to add, “in a good way!”

Dean leaned back in his chair, giving his brother a calculating look. He saw nothing but sincerity. “Seriously, Sammy, where is your faith coming from these days?”

Sam rolled his eyes with a smirk. “Like I said, it’s because it’s Cas. Think of it this way: the lives we lead, the fact that we’re Winchesters, doesn’t leave a lot of room for normal happiness. But Cas is an angel. If anyone could handle either of us, it’d be him.”

Dean laughed outright. It sounded rusty from ages of disuse. “Can’t really argue with that.”

“You gonna do something about it, then?” Sam asked with an unsure, but genuine smile.

“Yeah, I just need some time to... process it all.” He held his hands up when Sam’s face immediately fell. “I said I would and I will. I promised Cas and I’m promising you.”

“Good. You know... I’m really... ah. Just, good luck, okay?”

Sam’s embarrassment eked out another laugh. “Whatever, man. Drink your damn coffee.”

 

 

~ o ~ x ~ xoXox ~ x ~ o ~

 

 

Castiel appeared in the war room, figuring it to be the most neutral ground. Plus, he remembered all the times that Dean had been short with him over privacy and personal space. Dean wasn’t in the room, though Castiel already knew that. Sam blinked at him in surprise. “Hey, Cas,” he said, a slow smile turning his lips up. “You’re back.”

“Yes,” he answered, confused at the strange look. “How are you, Sam?”

Sam cleared his throat. “I’m good, man. Really good. If you’re looking for Dean, he’s been in his room all morning listening to music as loud as his headphones will let him.”

“Thank you, Sam,” he said vaguely, turning towards the dorms, though not entirely sure if he was being rude not catching up with the younger Winchester since it had been so long. When he glanced over his shoulder, though, he was fairly certain that the strange look Sam was giving him was a clear sign he wasn’t offended.

No sound came from Dean’s room when Castiel stopped in front of the closed door. He raised his hand to knock, then stopped and brought it down to knuckle at the tightness in his chest. He still didn’t have a complete understanding of the range of human emotions. This feeling he recognized. It happened every time he thought about Dean, touched Dean. It was Dean-exclusive and as painful as it was wonderful. He breathed in and knocked.

“Yeah?” Dean’s voice called, muffled almost completely by the door.

Castiel turned the handle and let it swing open, staying in the doorway.

Dean took off his headphones, the tinny strains of Kansas audible through them. They were silent, staring at one another until the song finished. A new one didn’t start afterwards. Good timing showing up at the end of the playlist.

Castiel couldn’t understand Dean’s expression no matter how long he studied it. It didn’t change. Dean appeared like he was frozen, sitting at the end of the bed, feet on the floor. The angel wasn’t sure if too much or not enough space separated them. “Hello, Dean. I heard your prayer,” he began haltingly. “You said you wanted to talk.”

Dean stood slowly, his eyes never leaving Castiel’s face, as if he thought he might spook him into zapping away. “I said that, but it’s not true,” he answered.

Castiel tilted his head to the side, trying not to let the swooping disappointment in his chest show. “Then why did you say that?”

Dean took a single step forward. “I don’t wanna talk, Cas. I never wanted to talk. I never say the right things, and if I don’t do it here, then I’ll regret it forever.”

“I don’t understand,” Castiel answered, an urge to step back when Dean stepped forward barely tamped down. He really didn’t understand.

Instead of explaining, Dean took another small step forward. “I’m totally back to normal now. Not an incubus. Are _you_ back?”

“Yes,” he said, voice hitched. There wasn’t enough space between them. He could touch Dean if he moved his arm just slightly. “I recovered quickly once my grace was restored.”

“So you’re in your right mind?”

Castiel’s forehead wrinkled with offense. “Of course I am.”

They stood practically nose to nose now. Castiel had to flick his focus from Dean’s right eye to his left quickly to take him all in. He smelled the man’s mint toothpaste when Dean murmured, “Good, because I need you all there to answer my question. Do you still want what you told me?”

Voice having failed him, Castiel nodded. Dean grinned and Castiel thought the hunter might kiss him, but he didn’t. He held completely still, expectant. Castiel gave in and answered. “It’s always you, Dean.”

“I know,” he answered, and it sounded a whole lot different to Castiel than a simple acknowledgement. For a brief second he thought about _Star Wars_ and didn’t know why. Then Dean kissed him and Castiel didn’t waste even a millisecond before responding. Such as it was. This wasn’t the incubus poison driving them both forward to get to the final act. Castiel half expected the overwhelming ambrosia scent, both relieved and slightly sad when it didn’t happen. This was better. It _had_ to be better. Just Dean. Just Castiel. Nothing between them except for the small tremors of nervous anxiety wracking their bodies.

Dean kissed like memorization was the most important part. He took Castiel’s face in his hands gently, thumbs stroking over his cheekbones, fingers curling behind his ears. That and their mouths were the only things that touched. Castiel was pleased with the familiar feeling of Dean’s warm, dry lips. He tilted his head slightly like he remembered Dean enjoying as if to ask for more. But Dean didn’t give it to him right away. He used the angle to press a series of smaller kisses to the corner of Castiel’s mouth, doing nothing more until the angel’s lips parted on a reedy sigh. Dean delved in, then. Their tongues met and Dean’s grip grew stronger, pulling their bodies together firmly. He still didn’t move much. When he was an incubus, he would have already been grinding them together to stimulate them both further. This time he let them both experience an actual kiss that wasn’t a means to an end, specifically there to capture Castiel’s attention. It was a thing all by itself, exploratory and communicative. Castiel couldn’t read Dean’s mind any longer, but he was surprised that he could understand what he was saying wordlessly, anyway.

Finally unfrozen, Castiel slipped his hands between Dean’s unbuttoned dark red over shirt and black undershirt. His hands slid back over Dean’s ribs to curl against the dip of his spine. Dean shuddered and tugged him closer.

When they pulled apart, Dean’s eyes were bright and searching. He licked his lips and smiled, though it wobbled a little. “Not the same, is it?”

Castiel released the hunter, but didn’t put space between them. He brushed his own wet lips with his fingertips. “I like this better,” he admitted. “It feels like you.”

Dean pressed their foreheads together. He shut his eyes. “Are you okay with me not being an incubus anymore? We can’t, like, bond or anything now.”

Castiel reached up and gripped Dean by the back of the neck, steadying and warm. “I told you before, didn’t I? I’d give up the rest just for this.”

“Jesus, Cas,” Dean whispered. “Never pegged you for a sappy romantic. How come you’re such a smooth talker now?”

Castiel couldn’t stop his smile as he bent forward to press another small series of light kisses along Dean’s face. The hunter tilted his head for easier access. “Sometimes I know exactly how to say what I’m thinking.”

“Yeah, I’ll buy that,” Dean answered, tugging the angel backwards by the lapels of his trench coat until they were laid out on the bed. Castiel tumbled down on top and caught himself on his hands, bracketing Dean’s shoulders. “It doesn’t have to be anything you don’t want it to be,” Dean said softly.

“I want everything,” Cas said severely.

Dean’s expression softened. “I mean it, Cas. You gave up everything for me.”

Castiel bent his elbows, bringing him closer. “It’s not a contest. And a sacrifice is nothing if there’s nothing for me to miss.”

Unable to form a coherent answer, Dean arched his neck up and Castiel met him halfway in a suddenly bruising kiss. Castiel wasn’t sure if it was his confession that had changed the tone, but _something_ had, and he found himself flipped onto his back in a rush. That was followed by an awkward struggle full of elbows and protests as they scrambled out of their clothes as quickly as possible. Dean was fairly certain that Cas could just make his own clothes disappear, but he appreciated the camaraderie during the unsexy fumbling.

Skin on skin slowed everything back down again. Dean lowered himself over Castiel almost like he was doing a pushup and the angel followed the rigid flex of his biceps with his eyes and then his mouth, biting at the firm flesh. Dean huffed a small moan that made Castiel spread his legs just wide enough for Dean to settle between them, torso to torso as he chased another kiss.

The similarities and differences between the before and after of the curse amazed Castiel. Part of him felt as though he was exploring Dean for the first time, almost like a piece of music he’d forgotten the tune of, but fingers remembering the notes to play. His skin felt rough and firm and familiar wherever his hands traveled. The heavy length of his hard cock brushing along the inside curve of his hip elicited an automatic response of drawing his hips up lightly for a bit more friction.

But the sounds were certainly different. Dean’s voice pitched lower than ever, but rather than the silky glide of an incubus trying its best to seduce and claim, now Dean sounded rough and wrecked, as undone by the contact as Castiel was. He could listen to those dirty sounds of pleasure forever.

By the time they were both worked up to a fever pitch, Castiel didn’t even have the presence of mind to protest the loss of Dean’s heat and weight when he sat up to grab the lube. In fact, he could barely keep his eyes open without being overwhelmed when Dean sat back on his knees, uncapped the bottle, and spread a thick sheen of it over his already slick cock. In a fluid movement, he wrapped his arms under Castiel’s knees and dragged him forward until he was half in Dean’s lap. The pressure on his entrance made him moan. Dean didn’t satisfy the urge right then, though.

He leaned over a little and Castiel pushed up onto his elbows to meet him halfway. “Dean,” he said breathlessly.

Dean ran his fingers through the sweat-dampened hair sticking to Castiel’s forehead, mussing it up into wilting spikes. “You’re right,” he said between heavy breaths. “This is totally better.” Then he used his body weight to shove forward, capturing Castiel’s lips in a messy, open mouthed kiss at the same time as he breached Castiel’s tight hole in a long, powerful thrust.

Castiel’s arms wobbled enough to topple him, and he collapsed back onto the pillows as he cried out. Dean didn’t seem to mind. He took a moment to seat himself to the hilt and then crawled onto all fours for better leverage. Castiel wrapped his shaking legs around Dean’s waist, gripping him tightly.

Dean slid his palms firmly down Castiel’s arms from shoulders to fingertips, forcing the angel to spread them wide across the mattress before tangling their fingers together. Then he started to move. Slowly.

Head rolling back onto the pillow, Castiel moaned deep in his chest and loudly every time that Dean hit the angle just right. He didn’t even recognize the filthy sounds being ripped from his throat, though every one made Dean gasp and murmur words of praise against his chest. His skin felt tight, everything taut and straining. And hot. He was burning. He gripped Dean’s hands so hard that they hurt.

“Cas,” Dean hissed. The angel opened his eyes to find Dean staring at him with the most intense expression he’d ever seen. It took his breath away and coiled the pleasure in his groin tighter and fuller.

Castiel arched up. Dean seared their lips together. His thrusts became erratic and wild. “Please,” he sobbed like the most devout prayer. “Dean, I’m going to-”

“Let me feel it,” Dean demanded. And just like that, Castiel flew over the edge and spilled between them untouched. The catch and squeeze of his muscles made Dean shout. It cut off into a low growl and he pulled out right before he came, adding thick ropes of come to Castiel’s on his belly. It took a long time for either of them to move at all after that.

Flexing his cramped fingers, Castiel wiggled underneath Dean’s weight. They untangled, both with small whines of protest. “I’m sore,” Dean complained. “And sticky.”

Castiel lazily touched Dean’s chest and whisked away the sweat and semen. Dean chuckled. “Wow, that’s a nice perk of having sex with an angel.”

A startled laugh rumbled in the angel’s chest. “I’m pleased to be of use.”

Dean rolled up onto his elbow, leaning just slightly over Castiel, who was sprawled on his back. “Thanks,” he said softly, eyes roaming over Castiel’s body.

“For cleaning you?”

“That too, but also for waiting me out. It... it means a lot, okay?”

Castiel smiled beatifically. “It’s worth it. I’m very happy, Dean.”

“Me too, Cas,” Dean answered, kissing the angel again.

In the end, it seemed sort of fitting that a curse would be a blessing. If he squinted at it sideways, Dean could find the patterns of blessings after the curses. Or, he could _hope_ that the curses came before the blessings so that this particular one wouldn’t even itself out with another tragedy. He kissed Castiel over and over. And when he leaned back enough to study his face in the low light from the desk lamp, he knew. He just knew. They’d always be this way. This was it for him. So the curses could pile on up. He’d fight them with Castiel. And they’d win.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you everyone for reading this! And especially to those of you who had the courage to read along while I was still publishing it! That took a lot of faith in me! I'm already writing my next Destiel fic, so pop in every now and then! Or visit me on Tumblr where I post fic updates and all sorts of fandom related stuff! My main blog is [Jupiter James](http://jupiterjames.tumblr.com).


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